Dragons and the Wasteland
by TheLiterateCrawdad
Summary: Growing up in the Lower Ring, Zuko knows life will never be what he wanted. That doesn't mean he isn't strong enough to fight for a better future and even become a Dragon in the process. AU.
1. Dreaming of Dragons

**A/N:** This is an AU and darker look at growing up in Ba Sing Se during the war. Zuko and the Gaang are two years older than they are in the series. That means, by the time Sozin's comet comes around, Zuko will be 18, not 16. As such, there will be more adult themes because Zuko will be an adult. That means there will be cursing, drinking, sexual themes, and violence as he gets older. I won't go over the top but, as I said, this is meant to be a grittier take on the A:TLA universe.

Anyways, thank you for your time. I would love your feedback. Enjoy the story.

I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender

* * *

 **Dreaming of Dragons**

When Ozai nearly threw Zuko from the palace walls, Ursa knew he would never be safe in Fire Nation.

Now, she slipped through the streets of the capital as the moon lit her way. Though time was short, caution kept her progress hesitant and slow. She had prayed for a clouded night - the less visibility the better - but it seemed the Spirits were against her. Or perhaps they simply didn't care.

The royal lady ducked down an alley as she heard the steady, tell-tale march of an approaching patrol. Sure enough, a moment later a group of seven soldiers passed by on the other side of the street. Every one of them were skilled firebenders. They carried a small blaze in their hands, spilling orange light onto the street and causing their skull-like masks to gleam. They looked like something out of the darkest corners of the Spirit World. Ursa hated those masks.

As they passed, Ursa held the basket she carried close to her chest. It was a plain, unassuming thing. Anyone who saw it had no reason for suspicion. Unless, of course, someone cared to look inside. Then, they would probably wonder why she was smuggling the grandson of Firelord Azulon through the city.

Then, they probably would probably put her to death.

Ursa prayed silently that the basket's contents wouldn't wake or cry out. She'd given him a drop of sleeping medicine earlier that evening, but she still worried. One sound and it would all be over.

In a moment, the patrol passed and she moved on.

The moon rose high in the night sky by the time Ursa left the capital proper behind. This far from the palace, she let herself relax. The most dangerous stretch of their journey was behind them.

As she approached the Western Ports, a cool fog crept in from the sea, hanging over the roads and clinging to buildings. The cool, damp air smelled of the sea, whose steady rhythm she could hear in the distance. Few people wandered the empty streets, but light and sound poured from the many taverns and inns. After a moment, she stopped before one such establishment: a small, dingy thing called the Firelord's Favor. Ursa dressed as a commoner, her clothing nice but plain. A deep hood layered her ash coated face in shadow. Still, she feared she'd be recognized.

Despite the hour, the tavern boasted a lively crowd. Travelers fresh from a long journey bargained for the price of beds. Fishermen ate their meal before the early day's work. Men who had simply lost track of time laughed over dice and drinks. The smoke of tobacco and opium cast the room in a dim haze. The air stank of sweet smoke and sour sweat. The effect was more than a little nauseating.

Ursa picked her way through the rough crowd. The room was dim but for a few torches throwing harsh shadows across the faces of its patrons. It turned the atmosphere sinister and claustrophobic. Under any other circumstance, Ursa would've felt uncomfortably out of her element. Under any other circumstance, Ursa wouldn't even get within ten miles of a place like this. Now, Ursa didn't even notice the leering looks and harsh laughter as she made her way to the _pai sho_ table squatting in the back corner.

The table was empty, save a man in a blue and white trimmed hood. Ursa sat down across from him, carefully placing her basket on the floor at her feet. She couldn't distinguish any features beneath the hood, only a trimmed, silver beard.

"Hello, my lady," the man said with carefully practiced casualness. "I hope it was no trouble finding this place. It was getting so late I thought perhaps..."

Ursa waved away his concern. "It's the names they give these places. They all have something to do with fire or the Firelord. None of them realize, after a while, it's all just a variation of the same four or five names. It took me a while to find the right one"

A chuckle slipped out from beneath the hood. "There was no trouble on your journey, I hope. No love-struck suitors chasing after you?" _Were you followed?_

"No, no," Ursa laughed coyly, as though they were sharing gossip over drinks. "Nothing like that. I hardly get any attention from men."

"With a face like that? No man who saw could forget it." _Were you recognized?_

She shooed away the compliment, turning her head as though hiding a blush. "You flatter me, but I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to pretty myself up today. My face is hardly worth seeing right now."

A girl - Ursa guessed she was no more than fifteen or sixteen - approached their table. She wore the quaint dress of a server. The man ordered a cup of _shochu_ and tea. After a moment, Ursa decided she could use some _saké_ to calm her nerves.

"Lucky me," the man grinned. "To have your company all to myself tonight. Your husband doesn't mind, I hope."

"Actually, he doesn't know I'm here," she admitted. "He's a jealous man, even if I'm only meeting with an old friend."

"Of course. We wouldn't want him suspecting anything...improper."

"Of course," Ursa murmured. Something in her voice must have betrayed her anxiety.

"Peace, my lady," the man reassured. "I know of his...temper. All precautions have been taken. There is nothing to make him suspicious of any unfaithfulness."

The serving girl returned with their order. Glancing down at the empty _pai sho_ table she said, "If you want to play a game, I can bring you some tiles. People kept taking them so we don't leave them out anymore."

"Thank you, but unfortunately, I don't have time tonight," Ursa answered. "My husband will be expecting me home soon."

"If you need anything else, just call me over." She smiled at them and left.

"We should get on with this," Ursa said in a low voice. The longer she stayed, the more she feared recognition or discovery. She took a sip to calm her nerves.

The man inhaled the scent of his own drink. "You have it then?"

She nodded, lifting the basket onto the table and sliding it to the hooded man. He opened the lid, briefly peeking inside. If he was surprised to find Prince Ozai's son, Zuko, he did not show it. He only nodded and closed it again.

"This is a dangerous thing you ask of us." His voice was soft enough that Ursa strained to hear him over the din. He was right, of course. What she was doing would get them all killed, but Ozai would kill Zuko whatever she did. This was his only chance. "And a hard thing as his mother, I am sure."

"If I had any other choice, I would have taken it." Her gaze was fierce, unwavering. The thought of him, broken at the foot of the palace walls... Whatever it took to protect her child, she would do. Even if meant giving him up.

"You will uphold your end of the bargain?"

"Of course."

The man nodded seriously. Usually, he insisted on an oath, that she swear by her ancestors or the Spirits. But he had her only child. What more could any mother give?

They had nothing more to discuss. This meeting had not been easily arranged. It followed weeks of codded letters, burned immediately after reading - weeks more of hushed conversations in taverns like this one. Unfathomable amounts of gold had been paid out in bribes. Even a few uncooperative guards or nosy servants had, unfortunately, been made to disappear. His order had set plans in motion long before Lady Ursa arrive this night. Even _speaking_ the half of what they'd done would see them burned alive. They'd long since passed the point of no return.

"I'll give you a moment," the man said, rising from the table.

She wanted that moment, she wanted that one last chance to see her son and memorize every detail of his face. But she knew she would loose her nerve if she did. One look and she would never give him away. Then everything would be for nothing. She had to let him go, had to do it quickly, like ripping the bandage off a clotting wound.

"No," Ursa said against the ache of fear and loss. "I've already said my goodbyes and I don't know how much longer he will stay asleep. We can't afford to waste any time."

The man nodded and took the basket.

"Where will you take him?"

He was quiet for a moment. She couldn't read his expression through the shadows. "Perhaps it is safer if you do not know."

"Please," she begged. The thought of him lost somewhere in the world, away from her, hurt more than anything Ozai could ever do to her.

For a moment, she thought the man might not tell her. "Ba Sing Se," he said finally. "The city is vast as the ocean. Even if they knew he was in the city, they would never be able to find him. He will be given a new identity and entrusted to one of our Masters. He will be safe, my lady."

In the hours before morning, the White Lotus attacked the palace under the guise of Earth Kingdom assassins. No blood was spilled, and they retreated almost as soon as they came. No one knew what prompted the attack or their true goal until they checked the nursery.

In the assault, Ozai's son, it seemed, had been kidnapped.

Prince Zuko had vanished without a trace.

* * *

 _Twelve years later..._

 _Monorail Corridor, Lower Ring, Ba Sing Se_

Lee dreamed of dragons. They came to him in the night, when they could sneak up on him before he even realized he was asleep. Red as ember and blue as the heart of flame, so large they threatened to spill into the waking world, they would sing to him of the sun and stars and fire. Their breath warm as sunshine against his skin.

When he first began having the dreams, he would tell Fu about them.

"Nothing to worry about," he said. Always, Lee quickly assured his adoptive father that the dreams didn't scare him. He wasn't lying. They really didn't. In fact, he kind of enjoyed those dreams. But he wanted to make sure his father didn't think he was a coward.

That was years ago. Now, he was thirteen and the dragons still came to him. If anything, their visits were growing more frequent.

Rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, Lee rolled off his sleeping mat and stood up. Fogged with sleep, he took a moment to find his balance. A hard knot of hunger remained in his stomach from the night before. Food prices wouldn't drop until after harvest, so they were making do with what little they could afford.

Lee stretched his sleep stiff muscles and yawned before rummaging through his dresser (one of the few pieces of furniture he owned) for a shirt. The threads were getting bare and most of the color had washed out of it. He should ask for a new one on his birthday. His birthday which was...

 _Today!_

"It's my birthday!" he realized.

Throwing open his room' screen he ran into the common room.

"It's my birthday! It's my birthday!" He ran to Fu who sat at the table enjoying a cup of tea. "Fu! It's my birthday!"

"No, no," Fu said, sipping his drink to hide his smile. "Can't be. You've already had a birthday this year."

"Yes it is! Yes it is!" Lee said, pounding his father's shoulder. "It's already been a year! You got me a present, right? Right?"

"Perhaps." Fu continued to sip his tea.

He had, of course. Later that day, when Lee's friends crammed into their small apartment to celebrate his birthday, Fu presented a pair of curved, practice _dao_ to Lee. They were blunted, to the young boy's disappointment. They weren't _real_ swords. But his friends still crowded around him in awe.

"Whoa!"

"Wicked!"

"Can I hold them?"

"Come on, show us some moves!"

Lee grinned at the attention. Cheng stared at the weapons enviously and tried several times to snatch the swords from Lee until Rong hit him over the head for it. At that point the two boys began wrestling each other and Fu was forced to shoo them outside as they continued to bicker. Lee followed to join them when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder and was gently guided back inside.

"Do you like your gift?" Fu asked.

"I love them!" Lee said and grinned again to prove it.

"I'm glad." Fu smiled, but he suddenly looked tired and anxious. Lee worried he'd done something wrong. "Lee, do you know what these swords are for?"

Lee'd never really thought about it before. He knew they were used to stab bad people and cut them in half, but he got the feeling that answer would disappoint Fu.

"For the War?" he asked instead.

He didn't know much about the War. He knew it was against the Fire Nation. He knew Jin's father and brother were off fighting them. He knew, one day, he would have to fight them. In school, they called the Fire Nation the Enemy. They said he should hate them. But Lee'd never met any of them before so how could he hate them? It didn't really make sense to him.

His father knelt and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I had hoped otherwise, but you will inherit this war someday, Lee. It is beyond my power to end it or to keep you safe from it. Instead, I will teach you to survive it. _That_ is what these swords are for. _That_ is my gift to you. Do you understand?"

Lee didn't know why Fu seemed so downhearted. Sure, he didn't want to fight. He would never say it in front of his friends, but the War scared him a little. He knew people came home broken sometimes. Sometimes, they didn't come back at all. But that's just the way it was. So he only nodded.

"Good. Every day, from now on, we will have some new lessons after school."

Lee frowned. The idea of more learning _after_ school troubled him deeply.

"What kind of lessons?" he asked wearily.

Fu barked a genuine laugh and smiled fondly.

"Lessons I am sure you will enjoy: swordplay, martial arts, basic survival skills. That sort of thing." Lee grew more excited, his grin growing bigger, with every word.

"And bending?" he burst out.

Fu's face darkened again.

"We will see." He forced another smile. "Now, go play with your friends. I'm sure they're eager to see your new gifts."

* * *

To Lee's disappointment, their first lessons didn't even involve the _dao_.

"Your first task will be building up your stamina and fortifying your body," Fu told him. "A strong branch is nothing without a strong trunk or firm roots."

"I am strong!" Lee protested. "I always beat Cheng when we wrestle."

"Cheng," Fu laughed, "is a stick which might be broken by the wind. We must begin with the basics."

"I don't need the basic! I'm ready!"

Fu sighed but smiled.

"Very well, show me your strength."

He put Lee through a _dao_ form but he had only made it a minute before his body began to sweat and shake. His wrists burned but he held onto the blades. His shoulders ached but he kept his arms up. Two minutes passed. Three. Finally, just before the fifth minute, Lee's strength gave out and the _dao_ clattered to the floor. He felt fire in his wrists, spreading up to his shoulders and down his back. A small pool of sweat had formed on the floor.

Lee growled in frustration.

"Peace, Lee," Fu said, resting a kind hand on his son's shoulder. "Anyone else your age would not have held the blades half as long as you. Your body is weak now, but your will is strong as stone. From a strong spirit comes a strong body, if you are willing to work."

"I am!" he said earnestly.

"Are you sure? You must be strong as a badger-mole."

"I am!"

"Quick as an eel-hound!"

"I am!"

"Fierce as a dragon!"

"I am! I am! I am!"

"Then…" Fu smiled and leaned forward. "We will begin with the basics."

Lee groaned.

* * *

Jin was trying very hard to listen to the teacher and doing her best to pointedly ignore Lee.

When the wad of paper hit the back of her head, she nearly lost it.

" _What_?" she hissed at him. The teacher continued his lecture on the Dai Li, oblivious to any disturbances.

If her ferocity took Lee aback (or if he even noticed it), he gave no sign.

"Can I borrow some ink?"

"Why do you need more ink? You don't even take notes."

Lee's beamed at the chance to show off his work. He glanced around conspiratorially before holding up a picture of…something. To Jin it looked like a mess of stick figures. She could just make out that one was supposed to be killing the other (it had big 'X's where its eyes should've been) but the rest seemed like nonsense.

"You like it?" he asked enthusiastically.

She made a face. "What _is_ it?"

"It's the Avatar" he said, pointing to one of the figures, "airbending the Fire Lord to death." He pointed to another which gushed a mess of inky blood. "Air's next in the cycle, right?"

Jin rolled her eyes at him.

"There is no more cycle. The Avatar's dead. He was never reborn," Jin corrected. Honestly. Everyone knew that. "Besides, it looks done to me." She heard the teacher say something about the position of cultural minister and tried to focus on the lesson again.

"It's not done," Lee whispered earnestly. "The Fire Lord got his arm cut off and I need to draw more blood." He shot a wicked grin to a mortified Jin. "Do you have any red ink?"

"Ew! _No!_ "

That came out louder than she meant. Jin clapped her hands over her mouth. Too late.

"Problem, Ms. Jin?" the teacher asked coolly. His ruler sat menacingly on his desk.

"No sir. No problem here." She did her best to look innocent.

The teacher sniffed contemptuously, returning to his lecture.

If looks could kill, Lee would've been dead on the spot.

* * *

Lee lucked out. Jin decided to give him the cold shoulder to get back at him. Fine by him. She needed a chance to cool down. Better than getting more chewed out in front of the whole school.

After class Jin had torn into him for distracting her, for making her look bad in front of the teacher and getting into University would already be hard enough because she was a girl from the Lower Ring and didn't he even _care_?

Lee responded in kind. She needed to calm down and she was crazy and he _didn't_ care because while she chased her stupid girly dreams he would be forced into the military so screw school and screw the University!

He didn't really remember much after that, but the argument ended with them storming off in opposite directions. A few classmates made jokes that they fought like an old, married couple. The rest politely (and wisely) pretended not to notice.

Cheng slid into the seat beside Lee as Guo sat directly across and began discussing the upcoming Harvest Festival. Cheng was a short, skinny kid. His unfortunately large eyes sat too far apart and gave him a permanently manic look, which he had come to embrace. His messy brown hair stuck up in tuffs. Cheng had begun oiling it up to impress the girls he had discovered, ahead of his classmates, didn't have cooties and were, in fact, rather pretty.

"We're getting a group together," Cheng said about the Festival. "We found this great spot on the roof of the cobbler's shop. We'll be able to see the whole parade! You should come. There'll be girls." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No thanks, pervert," Lee said, shoving Cheng off the bench.

"Visionary," Cheng corrected from the grass. "You'll get there. Give it a few years. You'll find yourself a nice girl."

"I don't have time for girls," Lee protested. "I have school and training and work at the tea shop. Then there's helping Jin with…"

"See!" Cheng exclaimed. Lee did not see. "That's exactly what I'm talking about! You got a honey like Jin _right_ in front of you and you don't even notice."

Lee said nothing. Had he seriously just called Jin a honey?

"Or maybe you _do_ notice." He nudged Lee.

"Lee's got a girlfriend," Guo sang as Cheng got off the ground.

"She is _not_ my girlfriend," Lee said a little too loudly - more of a shout, really. A significant portion of the cafeteria went silent, openly eavesdropping on the conversation. He caught sight of Jin, not far off, looking at him curiously. He put his head down and buried his face in his arms. Stupid Guo and his loud mouth. Stupid Cheng and his perviness.

"You guys are joined at the hip," Guo pressed on relentlessly.

Cheng said under his breath, "They're joined at _more_ than the hip."

Lee tackled him to the ground for the second time that afternoon and the two began frantically rolling around as Lee tried to strangle Cheng. "I meant you guys hold hands and stuff," Cheng cried, trying to escape Lee's wrath. Rong looked down at them with amusement.

Guo plucked Lee off his best friend right before he could knock Cheng's teeth out. Though he loomed over his classmates, Guo looked deceptively out of shape. But Lee knew Guo could toss him around like a kitten-squirrel if he wanted to.

"You should ask Jin to the Festival," Guo said, half teasing. Lee responded by flailing uselessly against him. Cheng stood and patted the dirt from his filthy pants without much effect.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Rong said in his usual, serious manner.

"Traitor! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"See," Cheng said. "Even Rong is tired of you dragging your feet."

Rong pointed a stern finger at Cheng. "Shut it." He turned to back to Lee. "Will you just hear me out?"

Lee jerked his head in a resentful nod.

"Obviously, Jin's pretty pissed at you, yeah?"

Another nod, more resigned this time.

"It's gonna take a lot to make it up to her. But she likes the Festival, yeah?"

Another nod.

"Then take her as your way of saying sorry." His tone held the barest hint of _seriously, do I have to spell it out for you morons?_

It was a good idea, honestly. And Lee hated fighting with Jin. They'd been friends so long he felt they should be past petty fights. Life sucked, but she didn't deserve for Lee to take it out on her.

"I would…it's just…" Rong raised his eyebrows, patiently inviting Lee to go on. "Taking someone to the Festival…you usually…it means..."

"It means you like them, yeah," Rong finished. "You do like her, don't you?" he asked bluntly.

"Spirits, Rong! No! She's just a friend. A really good friend but... What's it matter, anyways? With the War..."

"Do it, bro," Cheng said, draping an arm over Lee's shoulder. Lee stared at it loathingly. "She's totally into you."

"I don't care if she's into me," Lee tried shrugging off Cheng's arm. "In three years we'll be thrown into the War..."

"So make these three years count!"

"And if I die?"

"Ugh. You're such a...what's the word, Guo?"

"Fatalist."

"Yeah. You're such a fatalist, Lee. You aren't gonna die."

"But what if I do?"

"Fine," Cheng sighed. "Do it for me then." His voice took on a melodramatic dreamy quality as he said, "Already, I miss Jin's feminine charms. My heart aches in her absence, Lee. I can't sit around while you two try to work it out on your own. That always takes _weeks_."

Lee couldn't decide what Cheng meant by "feminine charms." Even if Jin cared about that stuff, she was Lower Ring. Her family didn't have money for makeup or silk dresses. In the Lower Ring, only panders could afford such luxuries, for their hookers who lined the streets at night. Jin was _definitely_ not one of those.

"Besides, if you don't make your move soon I might just ask her to the Festival myself."

Lee grabbed a piece of bread, ready to throw it at Cheng when someone behind him said: "What about a festival?"

Lee's heart stopped. Not even his luck could be this bad. Could it?

He turned around.

Of course it could.

Jin had appeared out of nowhere. A small smile played across her lips. He begged silently that she hadn't heard too much of the conversation, but then he glanced over at Cheng who grinned maliciously. He realized what Cheng intended a second before it happened.

"Lee was gonna ask if you wanted to go with him to the Harvest Festival," Cheng said cheerfully. Jin looked shocked for a moment. Lee cringed and felt smug satisfaction practically radiating from Cheng.

Lee felt panicked. He imagined Jin's shock twisting into disgust, imagined her laughing in his face. Her, go out with him? Why on earth would she do that?

His hands tightened into fists around the bread in his hand.

In a moment, his panic turned to anger. He felt like someone had set his lungs on fire.

"Sure," Jin said brightly. Her face had a slight flush.

And the fire faded.

"Really?"

"Of course," she said. Her face turned sad but Lee found it was really nice to look at. "My brother used to take me. He would put me on his shoulders so I could see the parade. That was before..."

Before the War took him away.

Lee didn't know how to answer that.

"Great!" Cheng said. "Not about your brother, about the Festival. He'll pick you up after dark."

A gong sounded and kids began milling back to their classrooms. Jin smiled at Lee, who couldn't seem to form words, and disappeared into the crowd.

"What just happened?" Lee asked. Behind him Guo grinned. Rong just winked at him before joining the herd of kids.

"You got a date," he said patting Lee on the back as he passed.

"You can thank me later," Cheng said.

Alone, Lee realized he still held the loaf of bread in his hand. He almost ate it when he noticed it was burnt - not just a little dark, but blacked all around the edges. Weird. He could've sworn it hadn't been a moment ago.

Lee shrugged it off as he tossed the loaf away and followed his friends to class.

* * *

The Harvest Festival was an enormous and highly anticipated in Ba Sing Se, but especially in the Lower Ring. The other rings just didn't have the knack for _revelry_ that the Lower Ring did. Perhaps because the Festival allowed them to escape the anxieties of everyday life, perhaps because it was simply fun – whatever the reason, the whole Lower Ring was mad with a restless, festive fever. It was in the children crafting their paper lanterns, in the mothers baking mooncakes, in the men who spent the three days away from work and crowding pubs and taverns throughout the Ring; it was in the paper lanterns casting the city in a dreamlike glow, in the festive cheer, and telling of old stories. For three days, the smell of spices and prayer incense broke through the usual rank of tar and sweat that hung about their city.

The festivals began at noon on the first day of Shōuchéng, when the first fruits were gathered at the gates of the Outer Wall and loaded into decorated pageant wagons. The tradition dated back Lee didn't know how long – though Jin probably did. He didn't need the history to have fun. It was the rare event that brought the whole city together, some unspoken agreement that, as the harvest passed through the streets, the physical and social walls which divided them were made low. This was due in no small part to the intoxicating atmosphere of the lower rings. The Middle and Upper Ring only celebrated the Festival while the parade passed through their own districts.

But that was, in Lee's opinion, because they were lame. The Lower Ring _went hard_ : three days of constant festivities, fireworks, and (mostly important) as many mooncakes as he could eat! This drew many who would never even think of setting foot in the Lower Ring otherwise. It became almost a tradition, a game of sorts, for the upper-class citizens to slum those three days with the lowlife. For those three, glorious days, nobles and peasants alike shared table, drink, and laughter.

This year, for the first time, Fu allowed Lee to roam the streets of his district with reckless abandon. Evening of the second day descended upon the city but the thousands of paper lanterns strung between rooftops gilded the streets in a golden light. Sky lanterns filled the horizon along the Outer Wall to signal the parade's approach. The people inscribed prayers on each lantern. When lit and released, it would fly up, past the clouds, and into the Spirit World. At least, that's what some people believed. Lee couldn't decide if he believed in the Spirits. But sending a prayer up never hurt.

The city is dark now and Lee yells goodbye to Fu as he leaves. He told Jin he would meet her at the cobbler's roof. As much as he wants to walk her, the thought is too terrifying. The streets are muddy like they always are, but his high-soled sandals keep the worst of the muck off his feet. The air smells like spices and candied nuts and pastries fresh from the oven. Sky lanterns gleam in the night – little constellations filling the streets and skies. Everyone around him is buzzing with laughter and intoxication. The city and its people are bright.

If he looked hard enough down the dark allies, he could still see the homeless and beggars, but tonight he chooses not to look. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the sky.

When he scrambles up the cobbler's roof, everyone is already there. The girls Cheng has brought along are clearly middle ring girls, but Lee doesn't have eyes for them. Jin sees him and hugs him. He feels as light and aflame as the lanterns.

They eat mooncakes, filled with poppy and red-bean paste, and drink tea as the noise grows to a crescendo and the parade comes closer. Cheng produces a bottle of strong beer and after a few mouthfuls the world becomes warm and fuzzy around the edges. Even Rong takes a long drink, choking and spitting at its bitter taste. Lee sits close to Jin, their arms touching.

Cheng sees and grins stupidly, sure that his prodding is the reason for his friends' new happiness.

The parade comes like a dream: acrobats and musicians accompany the brightly painted wagons while performers costumed as bagger-moles – who first tilled the hard earth into fertile soil – stomp around and scare the little kids in the audience as Lee's laughter mingles with the crowd's; then comes the great, white lantern as big as his whole apartment – the moon with whom the ocean fell in love, creating the first clouds and bringing the first rain. As it passes, Lee and his friends pull out their own sky lanterns, each covered with their own prayers and wishes.

"What are you praying for," Jin asks, stealing a look.

Lee pulls it out of her sight. "I can't tell you. If I do, they won't come true."

"You're not superstitious," Jin pointed out.

"No," he agreed. "But...just in case."

Cheng passed around a box of matches. One by one, the lanterns are lit. It grows warm in Lee's hard, trying to escape. As the moon lantern passes, they release their own. Their prayers join with the thousands already sailing in the sky, floating as smoothly as a ship on clear sea.

Please, Lee prays, let the War end soon.

The paraders throw beads into the crowd. Lee catches one and puts it around Jin's neck. She rests her head on his shoulder and, without really thinking about it, he holds her hand. For a moment, he lets himself forget about the War. He allows himself a moment of happiness.

And for a moment. The world is perfect.

And then the moment ends.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for your time! I would love feedback on my work so please leave a comment.

I was in a rush when I first wrote this chapter, so I went back and made a few edits, especially to the first half.


	2. Lessons, Lies, and Tea Leaves

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for the reviews and encouragements. Also, thank the holidays for more time to write. I noticed some mistakes I missed in the last chapter. If anyone is interested in being a beta, I would appreciate the help. Anyways, here's the next chapter.

* * *

 **Lessons, Lies, and Tea Leaves**

"You've been ignoring me," Jin said flatly.

She had cornered Lee before class that morning in a don't-you-dare-try-to-run-away-or-you'll-lose-your-legs kind of way. She glared and he matched her gaze in its fixed intensity.

"Crap, Jin! No I haven't."

"For the past week you've been getting up early so you wouldn't have to walk to school with me. Don't make that face. Of course I noticed."

"Jin, seriously, you've got it all wrong. Fu's just been waking me up early to…"

"Lee."

"Yeah?"

"You've been ignoring me."

He began to lose ground.

"Ignoring is such a strong word…"

" _Lee_. You've been ignoring me."

"So what if I have?" he grumbled. Jin saw through his crap. Lee felt ashamed for avoiding her, but didn't know what else to do. He wanted wanted her to be happy. He wanted to spend time with her and he missed the warmth of her hand. But growing up in the Lower Ring had taught Lee hard practicality - and the looming War had only tempered it further. It sat deep in the center of him and he couldn't get around it.

He couldn't ignore the future. In a few years he'd be conscripted by the military. Unlike the families of the Middle and Upper Rings, he couldn't afford a substitute. And Lee wouldn't send one, anyways. But that left the dogged truth that, some day, he'd be marched off to the front fro his mandatory four years. And he might not come back.

Roku's balls! None of it was fair. He shouldn't have to worry about dying at his age. But if he couldn't avoid it, he might as well face it and do his best to avoid collateral damage. So he held Jin at arms length. He wouldn't give Jin another person to miss. She didn't need another reason to lose sleep worrying.

But he said none of these things. How could he even begin to put them into words?

"Ugh. Why do I bother with you?"

She stormed off. Lee let her go.

"Well done," Rong said dryly. Lee had forgotten about him.

"Shove it up your ass," Lee growled.

"No, I'm serious. Could you give me pointers sometime?"

"Die in a fire."

Rong smiled humorlessly. "Don't jinx it."

Jin caught up with them as they walked home from school that day. Rong held back to give them some space and, after a sharp look from him, Cheng and Guo did the same.

"Have you started memorizing Hoshi yet?"

"Um…"

Jin rolled her eyes. "We can study it tonight after you're done at the tea shop. Seriously, what would you do without me?"

"Cry myself to sleep," he grinned.

Jin smiled despite herself.

"Whatever."

"I would," he insisted. "Every night."

"You're an idiot, Lee."

* * *

In the midst of Dragon's Dance, Iroh sensed a presence watching him. With practiced grace, he slid smoothly into Dragon Skimming the Pond, a popular, meditative form. Without looking at the intruder, he asked, "Have you come to join my morning meditation, Lady Ursa?"

The Dragon of the West invited his family to join his morning ritual every night at supper. It seemed the only way to guarantee no one ever actually came.

Ursa lingered in the doorframe and took a cautious step into the dojo. Though surrounded by firebenders, and descended from Avatar Roku, she lacked the gift. It used to annoy her as a child.

"Actually," she said, "I was hoping to speak with you." She looked around at the blind and mute servants, men and women whose eyes and tongues had been put out for the service of the Royal Family. "Alone, if you don't mind." She asked more for the discomfort the servants gave her than any fear of what they might overhear.

"Of course!" Iroh grinned. He commanded the servants out without breaking form.

With the servants gone, it took Iroh another minute to finished his routine. Ursa watched with fascination. He took step after step, clean and precise as a blade. Though he had put on weight in his middle years, she could see hard muscle rippling beneath as he continued to make one perfect movement after another. He finished without breaking a sweat.

"Now," he said, fetching a pitcher of water. "What can I do for you, my dear? I am at your service."

He lifted the pitcher to his mouth and drank deeply as Ursa spoke.

"It's nothing so important," Ursa admitted. The courtly dialect, _Takaisupīchi_ , felt clumsy on his common-trained tongue, but the natural grace of her cadence made up for the lack. "I only wanted to say my goodbyes before you left for Ba Sing Se."

Iroh was not fooled. "I am grateful, but such matters have little need for privacy."

"I admit. Your servant make me...uncomfortable."

"So eager to bid me farewell that it could not wait for better time?"

"Well...I wasn't sure when you would leave and I..."

"Sister," Iroh probed gently, "let us speak freely. What troubles you?"

His eyes were so kind, so sincere, she almost betrayed her secrets to him right then. Iroh had that effect on people. But she kept her peace. What could she admit that would not see her dead?

Instead, she said, "Iroh, you've always had great regard for the Spirits."

He nodded. Everyone in the palace knew this. It had brought him into conflict with the Fire Lord in the past.

"I've recently begun my own studies, you see. It is a...fascinating school and so little is known. I thought I would ask your opinion on something."

Iroh chuckled. "Be warned, my lady. I seldom have the opportunity to speak of the things I love. I could go on for days."

Ursa attempted to return the laugh. The strain was not lost to Iroh. "Hopefully it will not take near so long. It's a simple but confusing topic, but I was too ashamed to ask in front of others." Many in the court thought her simple because of her low birth. It charmed and disarmed them when her roots broke through. She hoped Iroh would dismiss her curiosity as the questions of a commoner. She flashed an embarrassed smile, adding to the illusion. "It's these concepts, harmony and balance. I'm having trouble understand them."

Ursa's act didn't fool Iroh, but he played along for curiosity's sake. "Important matters, to be sure. These are the beginning of all virtue. One can not live properly without them."

"Yes! I think so too. It's only - and you must forgive me, this is such an absurd question but I can't seem to get past it - I'm confused as to how our War promotes balance or harmony." Iroh had gone very still and Ursa sensed, despite her precaution, the situation had grown dangerous. "I was hoping you could help me understand."

Iroh froze. The question did not outright condemn the War, but it called the War into question. Anyone else might think Ursa had made a mistake - the question of a simple woman who didn't know better. But Iroh sensed otherwise. He could not imagine Ursa's motives, but they deeply troubled him nonetheless.

"That is a dangerous question you ask, my lady."

"Forgive me, I did not mean to offend. I know it's silly. Still, would you indulge me with an answer?"

Iroh sighed. He often had the same doubts. The Fire Nation did not suffer such questions, particularly not within the walls of the Royal Palace. Still, it dogged him - haunted him, even. He spent long nights struggling to reconcile the devastation of the War, the Spirit's mandate for balance, and the vision he had received years ago. A vision that still burned within him like the sun.

"If there is an answer to that question," Iroh said cautiously. "It eluded us the day my grandfather set fire to the Air Nomads. Personally, I would never have begun this war in the first place. But now, after a hundred years of fighting, I doubt the world would forgive us even if we ceased all military action."

Of course, he would not mind it if history remembered him as the greatest general of the era, the general who conquered the Earth Kingdom. Iroh told himself it was not pride. What was it then? He did not let himself give an answer. He could not.

"No," he said, rousing himself from his thoughts. "Now, the only way out is through. We must win this war. Only then can we restore balance to the world."

She thought of her son, hidden somewhere in the city her brother-in-law sought to besiege. She thought of fire falling from the sky, of starvation and chaos and her little boy somewhere, suffering in the middle of it all.

Suddenly, overcome with fear, her caution shattered.

"Is there no other way?" she pleaded. "Could we not just end the war? You could do it. You have the power. Iroh, _please..._ "

"Ursa…" he warned.

She realized she'd said too much. "Forgive me. It's only…Azula…she's so eager to serve the Fire Nation and leave her mark. She's still so young, but I know she'll want to fight in the War when she comes of age." She didn't need to pretend when her voice broke. "I'm worried about her, Iroh. If I lost her too…"

She didn't need to say anymore. Pity made light of Iroh's suspicions. Even after all these years, Zuko's disappearance hung heavy over the palace. It crept the halls and haunted their beds. It had no visible effect on Ozai. He never cared for the child to begin with. That business of nearly tossing him off the wall…terrible. But Ursa had retreated into herself, coming forth only for the sake of her daughter. Worry marred her once youthful face, staining it with cresses. She never spoke of that night, not to anyone.

"I know, my dear," he said, taking her hand. "I know. I want to win this War as much for her sake as my own. Spirit's willing, we will not lose another of our family to this War."

"Spirits willing," Ursa agreed.

But she feared they wouldn't.

* * *

Lee blinked sweat from his eyes and struggled to maintain his posture. Slowly, he brought his arms around, shifting his feet, following the form as best he could. He brought his _dao_ together and retained just enough strength to sheath them with a flourish.

Fu coughed critically.

In his opinion, flourishes wasted precious energy, but he otherwise gave no comment.

Lee's form was far from perfect, but nonetheless exceptional for his age. Fu had worried Lee would slack as much in his private lessons as he did in school. Fu was pleasantly surprised to discover Lee had a well of determination which, once properly directed, would relentlessly attack a task until done to perfection. He wasn't the most naturally talented, but he made up for it with an almost inhuman work ethic. Frankly, it sometimes scared Fu a little.

"I think that's enough for today," Fu said to a Lee who had collapsed on the floor.

"No…no…I can…I can keep…going," he insisted between heavy gasps.

Fu couldn't help but smile fondly.

"Your body needs rest. Besides, it's almost time for the afternoon rush. You need to wash up."

Lee groaned. He would rather spend the whole day practicing swords with Fu, but training didn't put food on the table. Fu's stipend for his military service barely covered the cost of good and rent. Lee could only make ends meet because of his job at the local tea shop. The shop was owned by a short, timid man named Pao. Pao had the business sense of a bull-moose, but Lee didn't mind so long as he was paid.

Lee quickly ate a bowl of beans and rice. He washed with a wet rag and changed shirts before heading out.

Fu had a meeting at the shop and accompanied Lee as he walked to work. No matter how much Lee pestered him, Fu refused to say who or what he was meeting about. The reason became obvious when they arrived.

Taizu sat at one of the tables. When Lee and Fu entered, he looked up and waved them over. Taizu was and old war vet who had lost his leg to a firebender in the Forth Battle of Omashu. His beard was a rough, wooden brown streaked with silver. It traveled up his face, ending abruptly at a bald scalp. His eyes were wrinkled and hard but not without a gleam of kindness.

Lee's stomach filled with dread. He liked Taizu, but if he was here…

"Hey, Lee!" Lee groaned. He was in no mood for Cheng and Guo's constant harassment while he tried to work. "Mind getting us something to drink? You know, some of the _good stuff_." Taizu glanced at him sternly. "What? I was only kidding."

"Hi, Lee," Guo said simply.

Lee sighed. "Hi, guys."

"Whatchya up to?" Cheng asked.

"Working."

"Doesn't look like it."

"That's because you're distracting me!"

"I'm not distracting you. I'm a customer placing an order."

"You're full of it."

"Wow. The customer service here is terrible. I'd like to see the manager!"

"Shut up you idiot! Are you trying to get me fired?"

"Hm. What a novel idea. Guo, should we get Lee fired?"

"Sure."

"It's settled then. Let's get Lee fired!"

"Boys," Taizu said sternly.

"Killjoy," muttered Cheng. He didn't fight back though. Cheng listened to and respected only one person, and that was Taizu.

Without ever explaining how or why, Taizu had come to Ba Sing Se and decided to care for the orphans of the Monorail Corridor, Cheng and Guo among them. That's actually why they all became friends in the first place. The three found camaraderie in their shared orphanhood.

Lee didn't know their pasts. He'd never really felt comfortable asking them about it. For their part, they never volunteered the information. Lee knew that most war orphans became petty thieves or gangbangers. Few lived into their teens, especially in the Lower Ring. Somehow, Cheng and Gup got lucky and planned to join the army. They got to die a whole six years later than all the other orphans.

Yeah.

Lucky.

"Lee!" Pao called from the back. "Why are you standing around? Get to work! There are new crates of tea leaves that need stocking."

Lee didn't even have time to glare at Cheng before he rushed back to help Pao. Well, he said "help." What it really meant was Lee did all the heavy lifting, brewing, and serving while Pao huddled in his office "checking the books." Pao hardly even ran the shop anymore since Lee came along. The worst part was Pao knew how much Lee needed this job and the impossibility of finding a new one. His boss could basically demand whatever he wanted and Lee had to go along with it. But Pao at least paid fair wages and had enough sympathy not to exhort Lee as much as he probably could've.

Lee brought out the order for Fu and Taizu who talked quietly, away from Cheng and Guo. They thanked him for the tea and continued their conversation. Lee got the sense they were keeping secrets from him.

"Waiter! Yes! Waiter!" Cheng waved over at Lee. "Yes, could you tell me what's in the jasmine oolong?"

"Dude, it's literally just jasmine and oolong."

"Ah…yes. Yes, I see now. Yes. And what about the gyokuro?"

"That's literally just plain green tea."

Ah…and the peach chamomile? What's in that?"

"Cheng."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Ah…I see. Does that come with a free appetizer or...?"

Lee spent the rest of his shift imagining all the things he would do to Cheng if he wasn't at work.

It cheered him up considerably.

* * *

Azula blew at a stray strand that had fallen between her eyes.

"Very good," Iroh praised with a grin. "You almost had it perfect this time."

The young girl huffed in annoyance. "Almost isn't good enough, Uncle," she said earnestly. "Father mastered all ninety-nine forms when he was just twelve. I'm already eleven and I've only mastered forty-seven."

Mai, who watched with Ty Lee from the edges of the courtyard, rolled her eyes. "Ugh. You're such a try-hard, Azula."

"Am not," Azula said coolly. "You're just jealous because you can't bend."

"Relax, princess. You don't wanna mess up your hair more, do you?"

"Whoa, calm down guys," Ty Lee said trying to placate the two.

Iroh laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, deep and sincere. He never laughed at others or their weaknesses, only at the small moments of joy and wonder in the world: like the burning determination of this young girl.

"Do not worry, my dear." He ruffled Azula's hair, sending it into further disarray. "You will be as great as your father. You will make the Fire Nation proud."

Her training had officially ended an hour ago, but Azula continued regardless. She knew Father would be looking for her soon. He would probably be really mad. They had some important lunch with some important somebody. But she was _this_ close to mastering the forty-eighth form, so she decided he wouldn't mind too much.

Besides, it was Uncle Iroh's last day in the capital before he went off to conquer Ba Sing Se and she wanted to spend time with him before he left. She liked spending time with her Uncle. He was funny and always kind to her. He told her stories of the spirits and the spirit world. The only thing she didn't like was when he made her meditate with him.

"It is very important to understand," he had told her seriously. "A sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body. All things are connected, Azula."

So, even though she hated it, she practiced with Iroh every day to get better. It did not come as easily to her as bending, which was annoying. But her mind was always so full of things! Someone had told her once (her mother, maybe?) that she was a schemer. She loved pulling pranks on the servants and tricking her friends. It made her laugh to see their expressions. It excited her. And she always got away with it. She knew just what to say, just how to bat her eyes. It was a game to her and she always won. Well…not _always_. Mother always saw right through her act.

So did Uncle Iroh.

She thought Father did, but he seemed to approve of her games. It confused her sometimes, the way Father would encourage her then Mother would reprimand her. She loved Father and wanted to make him happy, but there was the old saying Uncle Iroh had taught her: "Two eyes are better than one; and two witnesses will always prove true." So, she tried not to play her games too much. At least, when she did, she tried to be nice about it.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before a servant came to fetch her.

"I'll see you guys later," she said, waving at Mai and Ty Lee.

They offered to come along but she shook her head. She knew Father would be mad and she didn't want them there to see her get chewed out.

"Azula," snapped Father when she was brought into his room. Her name was said as a reprimand more than a greeting. "I expected you nearly an hour ago. This meeting is critically important and you have made us late." The last word came like a whip. She wanted to flinch but maintained her composure.

"I'm sorry, Father," she apologized with a bow. She dipped her voice regretfully. "I was training with Uncle. I was so close to mastering the next form. We…we lost track of time." A lie, but a believable one. When Father said nothing, she went on, "It won't take long for me to get ready. I didn't even get sweaty. See!"

Father grunted. "You have twenty minutes." He turned. "And fix your hair. It's a mess." He left without another word.

Azula could tell she had disappointed Father. She hated disappointing him. She did not cry (even as a baby, she never cried) but she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Uncle Iroh over her.

"Do not worry, my flower. Your father loves you very much. The war has just made him very busy right now. I'm sure he did not mean to be so harsh."

That made her feel better.

"Do you really have to go, Uncle." She knew he was leading the siege on Ba Sing Se. She hated that he would be leaving soon. She would miss his jokes and his laugh.

"I do," he said kindly. "My destiny awaits me there."

She didn't know what he meant by that, but it didn't help at all.

"How about this?" He grinned mischievously. "After my victory, I will make you princess of Ba Sing Se."

"Will you really?" she asked excitedly.

"Anything you ask and it shall be yours." He bowed gallantly but kept grinning. "If you asked for the moon, I would deliver it into your hands."

"Then promise you'll come back." She knew sometimes people didn't come back from the war. "And Lu Ten! Promise he'll come back to."

He smiled fondly at her. "I promise."

"Pinky promise," she said, holding the small finger out to him. He roared with laughter. It was like the thunder of a spring storm. He held her pinky with his own.

"Pinky promise."

* * *

"Fu, will you tell me about my parents?"

Fu paused at the tattered screen of Lee's room. The city was quiet save for the call of a cat-owl and the muted argument of the family downstairs. The outside air, warm and humid, crept through the poor insulation of their apartment. Lee lay on his old, moth-eaten mat, forgoing covers for the heat. The ground was hard but he was used to that and it was cool against the warmth of the night.

"What would you like to know?" Fu asked slowly.

Lee shrugged, feeling strangely self-conscious. Fu rarely talked about them. He knew they had been distant relatives of Fu. He knew they were colonials. He knew they had died in a battle.

He also knew someone in his family must have been from the Fire Nation and that's where he got his eyes and complexion. He didn't like knowing that. Even having a little Fire Nation blood in him made him feel dirty.

A part of him feared he might even become a firebender one day.

"I don't know," he said into his mat. It smelled funny. He should try to save for a new one. "You never talk about them. What were they like?"

Fu thought for a moment.

"You mother was the kindest woman I ever met. She loved you more than words could say. She would write me letters and all she talked about was you. Things were getting bad out in the colonies and they planned to move here. Unfortunately, they never made it."

Lee was quiet for a moment.

"What about my father?"

"Your father…" Fu seemed at a loss of words. "I never knew him, unfortunately. I'm sure he was a good man."

"What did they do?"

"They were farmers, if I remember correctly."

"Could any of them bend?"

"Not that I recall."

"What were their names?" he asked, suddenly realizing Fu had never told him.

Fu was quiet for a moment, longer than it should've taken to remember their names. Just long enough to think of a lie. But why would Fu lie to him? Why would he keep his parent's a secret at all?

"Noriko," he said finally. "Your mother's name was Noriko. And your father was called Ikem."

Lee said nothing else. After a while, he began to snore softly. Fu gently closed the screen against the secrets that filled the air like ice.

* * *

"Will you read for me?" Azula asked Mother.

Ursa paused at the doorframe of her room. The palace was quiet save the sounds of servants cleaning in the night and the heavy footsteps of guards walking their routes. An owl-cat purred into the velvet night. The air outside was warm and humid but firebender servants redirected its heat so the air within her room was pleasant and cool.

"What would you like to hear," Ursa asked, sitting on her lush bed.

Azula thought for a moment.

"Something by Jirou Hoshi."

He was her favorite. To be honest, she didn't like poetry all that much. She had no trouble memorizing it, but it just didn't interest her. But she loved listening to Mother recite for her. She had such a beautiful voice and the lulling rhythm of the poems always swooned her off to sleep.

Azula yawned. Dinner—a full kaiseki ryori—had left her full and sleepy. Father even let her have a sip of sake. Even though she missed Iroh and Lu Ten, she was happy. Life was good and everything would turn out alright. She was more sure of this than the sun and stars.

Ursa stroked Azula's hair as she began to recite.

"All shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flames are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again for taking time to read this. If you have any suggestions or critiques, please leave a review. Hopefully with the holidays I can keep updating relatively frequently.


	3. Silence and Thunder

**A/N:** A quick note about the lingo in this world: Given the war's affect on the culture, curse words are usually words associated with fire and burning. I.e. telling someone to 'go burn' is their equivalent of 'fuck off'.

Alright. Let's roll.

* * *

 **Silence and Thunder**

That morning, Lee knew something was wrong. Fu was always reserved, but today he barely said a word to Lee. He kept looking out the window nervously, as if he were expecting someone. There were dark circles under his eyes and Lee knew he hadn't slept much the night before. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Fu stopped Lee before he left for school.

"Do you remember what to do in case there is an emergency?"

Lee nodded. The question made him uneasy. They had plans for fires or floods or other natural disasters. But Fu didn't say natural disaster. He said 'emergency'. Emergency usually meant a riot. Or worse.

He recited the plan from memory. Usually he would be with Cheng and Guo. Since Taizu's home was closer and navigating the roads during an emergency was nearly impossible for the amputee, Lee would go home with his friends and wait for Fu. The basic idea was to get off the streets and somewhere safe as fast as possible.

"Of course you remember," Fu said, ruffling his hair and giving him a strained smile. "I don't want to worry you, but there are reports of a Fire Nation force heading to Ba Sing Se."

That didn't worry Lee at all. In fact, he sighed in relief. This was not the first time the Fire Nation had come to Ba Sing Se. Every year or so there were skirmishes along the Outer Wall, but the Fire Nation had never made it inside. The agriculture district was usually put on alert just to be safe, but there was no reason for the other rings to worry. Most of the time a battle would come and go before the heralds could even get the word out.

But he never remembered Fu looking this worried. That made him worry.

From what Lee knew, Fu had been high in the ranks of the army before he retired. He had kept up with his old contacts and was usually still privy to information kept from the general public. Every so often, his father would disappear to some mysterious meeting and return home late into the night.

"Is something different this time?" Lee asked.

"It's an abnormally large force," Fu confessed. "And the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation is leading it himself."

Lee nodded. "He wouldn't be in charge unless he was confident he would win."

Lee's insight surprised Fu. It almost made him forget how young the boy was.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about."

Lee wanted to believe him.

Downstairs, Jin was already waiting for him in what might've passed for a lobby. It was a small, shabby room where the landlady, an old woman named Madam Rou (who reminded Lee too much of a frog) could exhort the comers and goers for the latest rent and gossip from her cramped office.

"...shouldn't be running around the city with the Fire Nation at the gates," Madam Rou was saying to Jin. "Honestly! Don't your parents have _any_ sense?"

"No ma'am," Jin said cheerfully. "None at all, in fact."

"Lee!" Madam Rou barked when he came down the stairs. Her voice was rough from an opium habit in her youth. "You didn't pay your rent last week."

Lee cringed. Forcing his best innocent grin he said, "Oh really? Ha ha. Funny. Fu said he talked to you about that..."

"You never paid off last month's either," Madam Rou interrupted. "Fu may be a sweet-talker (and a handsome once at that)..."

Ew

"...but I'm already going out of my way not charging the both of you interest. If it gets out that I'm cutting deals then _everyone_ will want special treatment and _no one_ will be paying their rent. Get it?"

Lee quickly calculated how many extra hours at the tea shop it would take to catch up on the rent. If he skipped a few days of school next week...

"I'll talk to Fu about it tonight."

"Don't let it happen again," Madam Rou said, eyeing him critically. "And where are you off to this morning? Fu's letting you run amok too, I suppose?"

"Yes ma'am. I have to go to school. Education's _very_ important, you know."

"Never bothered with it myself," the landlady said, missing the irony in Lee's voice. "And I'm doing just fine for myself."

"Oh no," Lee insisted, looking Jin right in the eyes. "Education is the most important thing in the _whole world_! I could _never_ miss a day of school in my life!"

Jin stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, when _education_ comes up with this month's rent, let me know," Madam Rou said dryly. Then her expression grew tender, a strange look on her frog-like face. "Stay safe out there, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am," Jin and Lee said together.

"See gives me the creeps," Lee said when they were well out of earshot.

"I think she's sweet," Jin grinned.

You would think the roads would be quiet, with the city on alert, but you would be wrong. A few roads had been designated for troop movement and several shops which were usually open were not -probably because their owners were reserve troops who had been called out to the wall- but people seemed rather carefree about the whole thing. That eased the tension in Lee's stomach somewhat. But then, the Lower Ring were not the timid sort like the middies and tip-tops. _Those_ guys would hole up in their house like a rabbit-turtle if the weather got too hot. A lowlife (it was meant to be a derogatory term, but they wore it with pride) would carry on business as usual if the air itself was on fire.

They stopped by Rong's house, knocking on the door a few times before his mother peaked her head out.

"I'm afraid Rong won't make it today," she apologized. "The palace commissioned a rather large order of spearheads and my husband won't be able to fill it on time without his help."

"No worries," Lee replied. "Tell him we said 'hi'."

"I'll do that," she smiled. "Be careful today."

"We will."

Lee couldn't help but feel jealous of Rong sometimes. If the Lower Ring had a nobility, it was the blacksmiths. Smithing was one of the few profitable trades left in their perpetual war economy. At first, everyone and their mother had tried getting in on the smithing trade but the market had become too flooded with half-baked blacksmiths who couldn't tell steel from tin. So the guilds shut that down fast. Now, if you weren't born into a blacksmith family, you had no shot of getting in on the trade. Being a blacksmith usually meant you owned your own house and never had to worry where your next meal was coming from. Plus, they were excused from military service. Couldn't supply the armies with weapons if everyone who knew how to make them was dead.

Jin was uncharacteristically quiet during their walk. Lee could tell she was worried and he wasn't about to pry.

They met up with the brothers (Lee knew they weren't really related, but that's just how he thought of them) at the Firelight Fountain like they did every day.

The Fountain lay in the middle of a ring of expensive-looking but now abandoned shops. Apparently, the place had once been a wealthy market and the Fountain had been built for scenic purposes. That was back when Ba Sing Se was prosperous and poverty practically nonexistent, back when patrons still lived in the Lower Ring (then called the Trade District) and would fund projects like the Firelight Fountain. At least, that's what Lee had heard.

The details were lost to him. Once refugees began flooding Ba Sing Se, the wealthy had retreated into the Upper and Middle Rings. Now, the market was a place for the homeless to squat on cold nights and the Fountain was all but forgotten. Places like this one, old abandoned art and civil projects, could be found all over the Lower Ring: memories of a better time. The Fountain was unique in that someone (or many someones) had kept the square clean and the Fountain running. Sometimes, they would even light the multitude of candles which gave the Fountain its name. Despite Lee's best effort, he had never learned the identity of the mysterious caretakers.

"Glad to see not everyone is loosing their minds over this," Cheng grinned. No one needed to say what 'this' was.

"Didn't realize you had a mind to loose," Lee grinned.

"Asshole," laughed Cheng.

"You walked into that."

"Lee could be a firebender," Guo said enthusiastically.

A firebender? He remembered his conversation with Fu a few nights ago. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

"Cause...you know...you burned Cheng so bad with that joke..."

"As if," Lee spat.

The brothers shared a look, but decided to let it go.

* * *

At school, a third of their classmates were missing, kept home by anxious parents. The whole school seemed to be holding its breath. The usual noises - kids laughing at dumb jokes, guys teasing the girls, teachers reprimanding misbehaving students - were missing. Instead, everyone huddled together, whispering nervously.

"I don't know what the big deal is," proclaimed Cheng. A few teachers gave him condescending glances before returning to their hushed conversations. "I mean, it's not like those ash-holes have never tried to come at us before."

'Ash-hole' was a Cheng original. Something to do with their pale skin and overall pyromania.

Guo nodded along enthusiastically.

"This is different," said Jin, too worried even for a signature eye roll.

" _How_?" he demanded.

"I don't know. It just is."

"You're just scared cause you're a girl."

"Am not!"

"You're a girl and a chicken-cat." He began making a noise halfway between a meow and a squawk.

"Cheng, if you don't shut your burning..."

"OooOo!" Cheng put his hands to his mouth in mock offense. "Jin said a bad word!"

"Cheng," said Lee. The boy turned at the sound of his name just as Lee grabbed a handful of his shirt and shoved him roughly against the wall. "Shut up."

Cheng smoothed his shirt as Lee let him go and grumbled something about no one being able to take a joke. Everyone chose to ignore him.

Everything was going to be okay, Lee thought. Yeah, Cheng was a moron, (like, a _really_ big moron; like, the _biggest_ moron in the world) but he was right this time. Nothing bad was going happen. The Fire Nation wasn't going to breach the wall and soon they'd go away and everything would go back to normal.

By the time he got to class he'd put himself in such a good mood that when the teacher, Mr. Sato, said "Don't worry, children. Remember, our city is called 'Ba Sing Se' because it's The Impenetrable City. It isn't called 'Na Sing Se'. Nothing can penetrate these walls!" he actually laughed. Because he was right. They were the Unconquered City. They would be fine.

"Still not a good enough reason to use the word 'penetrate'," Cheng muttered.

Even with the platitudes and corny reassurances that, seriously - everything was _fin_ _e_ , the class was restless. Even Jin couldn't seem to focus, glancing out the window and running her hands through her wild hair. Despite his earlier jokes, Mr. Sato was silent as he wrote on the board.

Cheng was called on to recite for the class. He snatched a scroll from Lee's desk (he had forgotten his own) and stood. He took nearly a full minute to clear his throat and read in a ridiculously grandiose voice:

"There is shadow under this red rock,

Come in under the shadow of this red rock,

And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning-"

 _BOOM_

"—at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in-".

 _BOOM_

This time Cheng paused as the last echoes stretched on and on and the air itself seemed to shake. If it had not been a clear day, Lee might have thought it was thunder. Until then, the room had been filled with small noises, like a forest on a restless night. Now, it was perfectly silent.

Another thunderous sound, deep like a shattering volcano, struck the air.

Then the noises began in earnest.

"Oh no.." someone whispered. "No no no..."

"...blood and ashes..."

A sob broke out and subsided into a whimper.

More hushed voices filled the air like fog. Like sharp wind through leaves. Somehow, instead of breaking the silence it only added to it.

They all knew already what Lee wouldn't let himself believe.

I'm asleep, he thought. Cheng was so boring that he put me to sleep.

The Fire Nation _can't_ be inside the wall.

This is _Ba Sing Se_.

He couldn't quite figure out how to breath right, like he'd suddenly lost the trick of it.

A pillar of smoke, like the hand of a giant, rose in the West.

This wasn't happening.

After hours or minutes a man entered the room dressed in the green and gold uniform of a soldier. He whispered something to Mr. Sato whose jaw went slack and his eyes wide. Outside the window, Lee saw dozens of soldiers running towards the column of smoke. Windows which had been left open to air out homes were suddenly shut. Stall windows were dropped and fastened. Closed signs appeared on every shop window. Mothers gathered up their children who, moments before, had been playing in the streets.

Oh Spirits. This _was_ happening.

He had the sudden, wild urge to flee the classroom, to see if Fu was alright or to join the battle on the wall, _anything_ but sit around like a helpless child. But what could he do? He had studied under Fu for a month now and could probably take any kid his age. But against a soldier who had been trained and fighting for half his life? He wouldn't do much more than get himself killed. So he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists and stayed where he was.

The soldier left and Mr. Sato stumbled to a chair and sat town gracelessly. After a long moment, he looked up at the children in surprise. Lee was sure he had forgotten they were there.

"We have been instructed," Mr. Sato said in a sleepy voice, "to remain where we are. Heralds are being sent throughout the city with further instructions. You parents will…" He trailed off and looked around as if he was unsure where he was. "You parents will be here shortly." When he had finished, he sat down and resumed his far-off gaze.

Lee didn't know how long he sat in silence. One by one, he watched his classmates crumble in their own private way. He began to feel his own panic rise to a breaking point when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked and saw Jin staring at him with wide, shinning eyes. Without a word, he took her hand for the second time. And if anyone saw anything, they too said nothing.

They listened as the heralds began crying throughout the streets.

"Ba Sing Se is under siege!

The Outer Wall has been breached!

Clear the roads for soldiers and refugees!

Remain calm! The Earth King will protect you!

Ba Sing Se is under siege..."

* * *

The four of them - Lee, Jin, and the brothers - spent the better part of an hour explaining to Mr. Sato and then to the vice principle and then to the burning _principle_ why the man with only _one leg_ wasn't able to pick up Cheng and Guo. Finally, once it was confirmed that the Fire Nation were halted at the Inner Wall, the group was allowed to walk home on their own. Seriously. Lee was convinced that teachers were the biggest bunch of idiots in the world.

Lee expected the streets to be packed, but they weren't. Most people were inside, trying to stay safe. Instead, the streets were chaotic. Lee could identify those fleeing the Outer Wall by the layer of soot they wore and the cough of ash-filled lungs. They fled in numb panic to the inner city while soldiers ran against them into the battle. Despite the herald's best efforts, telling everyone to stay on the right side of the road, everyone pushed against each other in a giant mess. The air had become brown and hazy. Ash floated around them like gnats. Amidst the soldiers and the refugees were others like Lee and his friends: normal people just trying to get home, to anywhere remotely safe.

They stuck through back ways, avoiding train stations and well known thoroughfares to the Middle Ring. People would be desperate to get as deep inside the city as quickly as possible. None of them would get in, of course, but that wouldn't stop them from trying. If martial law was declared, all traffic between the Rings would be suspended until further notice.

If Guo had not been with them they would have ditched the streets altogether. Traveling the rooftops was usually faster anyways. But Guo did not have the dexterity for it. The last time they had tried, Guo ended up with three broken ribs and a mild concusion. So they stuck to the streets.

They passed a boy sleeping in the alley who roused himself just enough to ask them for coin. He was filthy and ragged and obviously homeless.

"Sorry, brother," Cheng grinned sheepishly, turning out his empty pockets. "We're just as poor as you."

Jin gave a few coins. Lee spared a few coppers as well. He decided the new sleeping mat could wait a bit.

"If you want, you can come with us," Cheng urged. "I know someone who will get you cleaned and keep you fed."

The boy shook his head wearily.

"We're not a gang. Promise. We're just looking out for our own. No initiations or anything. How's that sound?"

The boy said nothing, just stared at them with empty, distrusting eyes.

"Come on, friend. It's getting bad out there. You don't want to be on the streets tonight."

Cheng kept trying to convince him, but eventually they had to keep moving.

"Stupid kid," Cheng grumbled. "Doesn't that guy even know what's going on?"

Lee knew Cheng well enough to know he wasn't really mad at the kid. He probably blamed himself because he hadn't persuaded the boy well enough. Stupid Cheng. What a moron.

"If he does, I don't think he cares too much," Lee replied. He had seen eyes like that. They all had. They stared up at them every time they walked to school. They peered out from alleys as they went to the market. They hid behind the makeup of the courtesans. They were the eyes of kids turned feral or hopeless by war or poverty - by desperation. Lee forgot sometimes, as bad as things were for them, they could still be worse.

"He should get somewhere safe," Jin said. "He could get killed."

"I don't think he cares much about that anymore."

"Poor guy."

"Yeah."

"Screw the Fire Nation."

"Yeah."

They said nothing until they came to Taizu's apartment complex. Lee wasn't sure what the man had done before the war, but he thought it must have paid well for him to afford his set up. The complex was shabby at best and large sections of it were clearly the work of earthbending. But it was big enough for him to care for as many as twenty kids at a time and twice a week he served soup to any street kids who wanted it. It was about as far from homey as anything could get, but it was still better than most had.

They found Taizu inside, speaking calm words over the younger children. The man was so gruff most of the time. He usually used his deep baritone to reprimand misbehaving children. Lee thought it would be out of place to hear his voice used for comfort, but it rumbled gently over the children like distant thunder of storms past.

"Cheng. Guo. You brought friends. Good." His voice was like rocks tumbling down a cliff. He said without preamble, "Guo, go fetch some water. Cheng, you and Lee can start sweeping. Jin, dear, would you mind watching the children?"

"Of course."

"Good lass." He took his crutches and stood, waving off Guo's attempt to help.

"Where're the others?" Cheng asked, betraying a hint of worry. "Bohai, Yingpei, and the rest?"

Taizu frowned. For anyone who didn't know him, they would mistake his worry for frustration. "They were out working the harvest this morning. Fools. I told them not to, but they were worried food would be scarce if the siege dragged on."

Taizu had farmer friends who would pay the children in food for a hard day's work.

"Are they alright?" Guo asked.

The old vet grunted reassuringly. "They're fine. Ol' Boa Zhi came by, told me the farmers made it to the bunkers just outside the Inner Wall. Fields are all overrun so they're digging a tunnel to get them back behind the Wall. Should be here in a couple hours. Maybe longer with the streets the way they are."

Guo sighed in relief while Cheng acted like he hadn't cared one way or the other.

"If they thought food would get scarce, how long do you think this siege will last?" Lee asked.

"Can't say," Taizu grumbled. "From what I hear, they didn't burn our fields like they usually do, just went strait to work on the Inner Wall."

"Well yeah," Cheng said like it was obvious. "I think a giant wall is a bigger threat than a cabbage cart."

"Maybe they just want to eat the food," Jin said sarcastically.

"No way," Cheng replied. "Everyone knows those ash-holes only eat babies and cute, furry animals."

"More likely," Taizu said, "they're planning for a long-term siege. If they preserve and ration what they've captured, it could last them several years. Meanwhile, we've got nothing."

Lee liked Taizu. He told it like it was. If people's illusions were a china shop, Taizu was a bull-moose.

"So," Cheng countered. "We'll just get food from other cities."

Already Taizu was shaking his head. "The Fire Nation has the strongest navy in the world. They wouldn't go through all this trouble without blockading our trade routes. We need to prepare for the worst."

Something was wrong, Lee realized. No way a force this big went unnoticed until just this morning. No way the Earth Kingdom just happened to miss the Fire Nation blockading their trade routes. Why hadn't they been given more time to prepare? What was the Earth King _doing_? How did-

"How did they bring down the wall in the first place?" Jin asked suddenly. She was always one step ahead of everyone else.

Taizu thought about it, scratching his beard. "You know, I don't think anyone actually knows. I've heard more stories than I can remember, but none of them seem to agree. There was a giant bomb. The Fire Nation has some new war machine. They have a dragon. It changes each time you ask."

"You'd think that's something people would remember," she said gravely.

Taizu caught on to Jin's train of thought. His brows drew together in worry. "You think the government _let_ them bring down the Outer Wall?"

That thought was more terrifying than the Fire Nation at their gates.

"I think there's something we aren't being told," Jin replied.

"You're quick as a whip," Taizu said. "And you might be right. Best keep those thoughts to yourself, though. Some people won't like you talking that way."

Jin nodded. Everyone else was silent, too lost in their thoughts.

"Now," he said in a tone that allowed no further discussion. "If you all are done gossiping and fretting about like housewives, there're chores that need doing. Let's get to work."

* * *

It was a few hours before Fu fetched Jin and Lee and the sun had sunk below the walls. The other orphans under Taizu's care had not returned.

"Hey," Cheng called after Lee. He grinned but it was strained. "Don't die out there."

"Yeah. You too."

"Let us know when the others get back from the farms."

"Will do!"

The group held hands to keep from being separated as they made their way through the crowd, back to their complex. As they walked, Lee heard snips of conversations. None were reassuring.

"...cut off from the rest of the Earth Kingdom..." one soldier was saying.

"...got some new weapon. A giant cannon or something..."

"...sent a man into the Spirit World...killed the Earth Spirit..."

And farmers. Something about farmers. Before he could hear more, Fu dragged him on. He had been so intent on listening to the crowd he hadn't noticed how tightly Jin was holding his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and grinned into her troubled eyes.

Lee wanted to be strong, strong as a bager-mole and brave as a dragon. He wanted people to look at him with courage and respect. But the hand that held Jin's was shaking and his head buzzed with adrenaline and fear. He closed his eyes, tried to quiet the storm inside him, tried to find a place to land as Fu had taught him. His spirit was _strong_. He would not give into fear.

"This doesn't really feel real, does it?" Jin asked looking around them. As evening set in, a faint orange glow could be seen from the site of the ongoing battle. "I mean, I guess it'll hit me eventually. Just right now, it feels like all I need to get out of here is pinch myself."

"Doesn't matter what it feels like, Jin," Lee said without thinking. "This is real. It's happening."

She gave him a look. _You know what I mean_.

"But yeah," he said quickly. "I get it. I mean, we're just kids. This isn't our war. It's the grown up's. I guess it's kind of Cheng and Guo's war too. But it's not ours." He had said more than he meant to but couldn't seem to stop. "I don't want it to be ours."

"It will be, one day."

"I want it over by then."

"Then all your crazy lessons with Fu would be wasted," she teased, bumping him playfully. They were quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Torches were lit as the night deepened. When she spoke again, her voice was serious and strained. "What if the war isn't over, Lee? What if you turn sixteen and they take you away? What if I don't ever see you again?"

Her eyes reflected too much torchlight.

"You're worried about your brother and father."

Jin swallowed hard and nodded.

"And you." Her voice was quiet as a candle. "I can't loose you."

"You won't."

* * *

"Fu! Darling!" croacked Madam Rou when they entered the complex. "Do you have my rent?"

"Ah! Madam Rou! You are a delicate jasmine. The sight of you is sun on a spring day. " He gave her his best winning smile.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Rou. Really. There's a siege going on."

"No excuses, Fu. I expect it at the end of the week."

Madam Rou shut her windows with a slam, leaving the usually composed Fu spluttering. He cleared his throat and did his best to preserve what little of his dignity remained.

"Well I never..."

They walked Jin to her apartment and were invited in for tea and dinner. It was a generous offer. Jin's family didn't have food to spare at the best of times. But they were too polite to refuse. When it came time to leave, they couldn't seem to go. No one wanted to return to the silence of waiting and uncertainty.

So it was that they spent the rest of the night in the warmth of company. The adults sipped sake and Fu told stories to Jin's younger siblings of spirits and a world before the war. Jin and Lee played pai sho and talked about their future and what they would do after the war long into the night and into the cool hours of the morning.

And for a time, they kept the silence at bay.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again for your time. Please let me know what you think. I'm still looking for a beta if anyone would like to lend their skill.

Thanks again for all the positive reviews! You guys keep me writing. This is the point where the story really begins. It's the first thing I wrote when I came up with this story and the rest was basically born from a desire to flesh it out.

Bush did Ba Sing Se.

The Wall was an inside job.


	4. The Siege

**The Siege pt. 1**

 _Day 1:_

 _The Fire Nation Camp_

Lu Ten was not having a good morning.

It had begun the night before last. Insomnia always plagued him the night before a battle, made worse by the knowledge of just how brutal the first day would be. His regiment - the Golden Seventh, some called it - had fought their fair share of earthbenders before. It was always a ruthless affair: boulders the size of houses crashing down on them like the sky itself was falling - the ground turned to a meat grinder beneath their feet.

Lu Ten would never get used to it.

At least waterbenders were clean and precise. From what he'd heard, a master waterbender could cut down a firebender company like wheat in a field, but they were almost surgical in their precision. They pierced and cut and sliced. Earthbenders though...all an earthbender could do was crush. And by the face of Koh were they good at it.

Memories of that first day had not afforded the young lieutenant much sleep last night either.

And now his father wanted to see him. No. General Miyamoto Iroh, the Dragon of the West, wanted to see him. The general _never_ called on him in the middle of a battle. He was always careful to keep his son at a distance. He would give no excuse for others to claim favoritism. Lu Ten suspected this was probably the main reason he had not yet been promoted past lieutenant. Which was irritating. He was nobility, the grandson of the Fire Lord! He should be a general in his own right by now! The only merit any of the other generals had was a lucky birth. He was twenty-five now and had twice the experience of them all put together.

And if one more smart-ass soldier called him 'Aunt Lu Ten'...

The lieutenant organized his thoughts. If the Dragon of the West was calling on him it meant trouble. It meant setbacks. It meant complications on top of a mission that many already said was impossible. In short, it meant nothing good.

The early morning was cool as Lu Ten walked through their small city of tents. Even at this hour, the camp flickered with activity. Soldiers came in from the night's watch as others attended to the thousands of duties which kept their tent town running. Messengers passed him as he walked, pausing briefly to bow - which he returned - before hurrying away. Others called to him more openly. These soldiers knew the line of command, but the lieutenant had a distinct distaste for formality. Unlike some other officers, he wasn't about to string a soldier up by his thumbs for not bowing low enough. As his father always said, "Confidence is silent; insecurities are loud."

Several men offered Lu Ten a seat by their campfire, a share of their rice or broth. He passed many such campfires, all huddled around by soldiers shaking off the night chill, rough from yesterday's fighting. This far north, the weather was colder than most of the soldiers were used to. A firebender could keep warm in all but the most severe cold, but a _nibui me_ lacked the inner fire and had to rely on more traditional means of warmth. The thousands of such fires glittering among the camp and mirrored the not quite faded constellations above them.

Beyond, the Wall loomed in all its enormity. As the sun rose, the Wall glowed like burning metal, as if lit by some inner fire. Its scope was beyond what the eye could take in, as wide as the sunrise itself. Looking upon it, you couldn't quite believe it had truly been built by man. It seemed too grand, too strange. In a strange way, it was beautiful.

What in _dìyù_ were they doing here?

He came to the small house his father had repurposed as his base of operations. Lu Ten didn't know what had become of its previous occupants, and he was little inclined to find out. They had been chicken farmers, he knew that much. The military's messenger hawks now resided in their chicken coops and the chickens themselves now resided in the bellies of his soldiers or with the rations master.

Lu Ten entered the general's 'office' and bowed. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

He imagined family portraits, maybe an amateur painting or portrait of the king, had once decorated these walls. He didn't know much about the decorating habits of Earth Kingdom peasants. Now the room was lined with maps. Reports of supplies, troop movement, and other intelligence sat on the general's desk. Despite the excess of material, it was organized with a discipline bred by years in the military. Candles filled the room with a soft light. For obvious reasons, all the paper was treated to be fireproof.

"Tell me," his father said without preamble, scowling down at a scroll, "do you know of a man named Long Feng?"

Lu Ten thought for a moment. "The name sounds familiar. I couldn't say from where."

"No. I suppose you wouldn't." Iroh rubbed the pressure an early morning had left behind his eyes. "He is a...distasteful man, as ambitious as he is deceitful. He commands an elite group of earthbenders called the Dai Li." Iroh sighed and tugged his beard. "He was also our way into the city."

Lu Ten frowned. That didn't make any sense. Earthbenders hadn't brought the wall down, a bomb had. Everyone had seen it. He had personally overseen the operation himself. People had _died_ delivering that bomb to the wall.

"The bomb was a trick?"

Iroh grinned, missing the edge in his son's voice. "And a very good one, if I might say so."

"Old man," he growled. "You better have a _damn_ good reason for what you did." He loved his father more than the sun and stars but he was too damn clever for his own good sometimes.

"Lu Ten..." The General's voice held a hint of warning, caught off guard by Lu Ten's anger. "You are my son, but you are still a soldier under my command. You know I do not tolerate insubordination."

"To _dìyù_ with insubordination," Lu Ten erupted. "A thousand men - _my_ men - died because of your _trick_."

" _Lu Ten_!" The sudden sharpness in the Dragon of West's voice shocked Lu Ten from his anger. It cooled as suddenly as it had come. His father blew a weary sigh. Suddenly he was not the terrible Dragon of the West, he was just a weary father. "My son, please understand. Yes, the bomb was a trick. But it was necessary to keep the Dai Li's involvement secret. It was the only way to secure their help. I promise you, for the thousand we lost, thousands more would have died otherwise."

"Who knew?" Lu Ten scowled. He was irritated even he had not been told.

"Only a few. General Bujing and Katsu and a few delegates who were in contact with Long Feng."

"Why so much secrecy? Why keep this from your own men?" Why keep this from _me_?

"Tell me, Lu Ten: why does the desert never flood?"

Lu Ten rolled his eyes internally. His father should've been born an airbender, the way he allegorized everything.

"Because the desert is too vast and too dry," he said, indulging his father.

"Be Sing Se is a desert, Lu Ten. And we are a mighty storm. But even the mightiest storm yields before the vast desert. And Ba Sing Se _is_ vast," Iroh said gravely. "Our best guess is around 700 square miles, conservatively. 700 square miles divided within by still hundreds of miles of walls..." Iroh shook his head. "Even if we brought the full might of the Fire Nation's military to bear - every troop, every reserve, every war machine - the city would swallow it like rain in the desert."

"You wanted to force a surrender through a siege," Lu Ten realized. "You never planned to storm the city itself."

Iroh nodded. "Except Ba Sing Se is impervious to a siege."

Of course. A siege all depended on cutting off supply lines, which was impossible for Ba Sing Se. There were no gates to batter down. If they besieged one, the city would close it with earthbending and open another elsewhere. The same was true of roads. The wall itself was hundreds of miles around. The Fire Nation simply didn't have to troops to cut off all possible supply lines.

"Once he brought down the Outer Wall," Iroh continued, looking at scrolls filled with now-obsolete plans, "Long Feng was meant to insight internal strife within the city, subtly disrupt trade from within, speed up the process of surrender."

"I'm sensing a 'but'..."

" _But_ ," Iroh said wryly, "it seems we have been deceived. Our sources indicate that Long Feng only sought an excuse to declare martial law and seize power for himself. He now has no intention of handing over the city as promised."

"Are we sure that he's turned traitor?" Lu Ten asked. The traitor turned traitor. At least he could appreciate the irony.

"I sent a small delegation to meet him this morning." Iroh's eyes were dark and angry. Though he remained as externally stoic as ever, the candles around the room flared. "His Dai Li slaughtered all but one man with the message: 'Cultural Minister Long Feng has enjoyed your partnership but regretfully must decline any further cooperation'."

Lu Ten made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt.

"I fail to see the humor," Iroh remarked dryly. "Our whole victory hinged on Long Feng's cooperation. Now..."

"Blood and ashes," swore Lu Ten, pinching the bridge of his nose. What a mess. But then, it was almost justice for trusting a traitor. If he was willing to stab his own king in the back, what kept him from doing the same to them? Not honor, obviously.

But he doubted the General would subvert the proper chain of command just to complain.

"What's the point of telling me all this, father?" He didn't like the look of confidence on his father's face. It meant he was about to ask him to do something extremely difficult.

"Lu Ten, I must ask something of you, not as your commanding officer but as your father."

He _really_ didn't like that look of confidence on his father's face. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"Nonsense!" Iroh laughed. "I'm sure you are more than up to the task. You're _my_ son, after all." Iroh rolled the scroll he had been looking over and selected a new one, gently spreading it out on his desk. He motioned Lu Ten over. "This is a map of the city," he explained.

Lu Ten looked upon the unrecognizable labyrinth of lines in confusion. "This looks nothing like the other maps I've seen."

"That's because it is nearly seven thousand years old."

Lu Ten was shocked. The scroll was old, certainly. The edges were worn and the paper was rotting in places. But seven thousand years old? The thing was wood and paper. It should have crumbled to dust millennia ago. It defied possibility.

The younger man couldn't quite discern the look on his father's face. It reminded him of the look he wore when he was moments away from winning a game of pai sho and didn't care who knew. So. This map, whatever it was, was a trump card of some kind.

"How..."

"General Shu procured it for us," Iroh explained. "One of his junior lieutenants, a man named Zhao, discovered it during their time in the Si Wong Desert. I was not told the details of its uncovering, but I assume the arid climate somehow kept it preserved for all this time."

"I still don't see how this could help us," Lu Ten said, trying to make sense of the contents of the scroll. "It looks nothing like the city now."

"Because it is _not_ the city. At least, not the one covering the surface. Before Ba Sing Se became what it is today, it was built mostly underground. From what General Shu discovered, many parts of these catacombs are still intact but completely abandoned." Iroh opened another scroll, a current detailed map of the city. He pointed to an area beyond the city's Western wall, in the mountains. "We've determined that there is an entrance to this underground section somewhere in these mountains."

Lu Ten understood. "You want me to find it for you?"

The general nodded.

"But why me? Why not send a scout or..." He was more than happy to find the Fire Nation a way into the city, but doing it himself was impractical. There were soldiers who were trained for this kind of mission, scouts who had spent years honing their eyes to seek out possible hidden entrances and weak points of strongholds.

"We are sending scouts," his father reassured him. "But I need someone I can trust completely to lead them."

It didn't make sense. Lu Ten had no experience with these kinds of operations. He was better suited for the front. Why would the general send him away?

Of course.

The _general_ would never send him away from the fighting. But his father...

"You can't send me off just because you're scared I might get hurt," Lu Ten protested. This was not the first time his father had pulled this. It had taken months of arguing for his father to even let him join the military. He had to fight him at every turn or - next thing he knew- he'd be guarding some backwater village or the Palace. He'd be hundreds of miles away from the action. If he hadn't asked his grandfather personally to be included, Lu Ten doubted he'd be at Ba Sing Se at all. "Is there even a secret city or are you just trying to keep me _safe_?" He spat the last word.

Iroh's face darkened. "The catacombs are real," he insisted. "As is the entrance you will be looking for."

"I _won't_ be looking for it," Lu Ten growled. "You won't send me away from my men."

"I can make it an order," his father threatened. "This entrance needs to be found."

"Find someone else! I won't do it."

"It is not your place to refuse, Lu Ten! I _order_ you to find that entrance."

"I won't!"

"You _will_!" the General roared, rising from his chair and slamming the desk so hard it shook. For a moment, the candles flared to the size of bonfires. "If you refuse again, I will have you demoted and sent home. Am I clear?"

For a wild moment, Lu Ten considered it. But that would be worse, and enough of him knew it that he wrangled in his mind's insubordinate thoughts. Grinding his teeth, he practiced his breathing techniques until he was calm. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In. Out. In. Out.

"Of course, General," Lu Ten said stiffly. He could not keep the bite from his voice. "If there's nothing else..."

"Of course." His father suddenly looked weary. His voice held the strain of a lifetime's worth of violence. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

Iroh was grateful Lu Ten left before he could see the tears.

* * *

 _The Lower Ring_

Martial law was declared the first day after the siege had begun. The new regulations were posted on the bulletin board outside the apartment. Before the residents could begin drawing straws to see who would endanger their lives by going out to read it, Madam Rou volunteered herself. Lee watched from the window as she joined the growing crowd of people reading over the new laws. It was the first time he had ever seen her outside her office. For while, he thought she might not even have legs.

"Alright, quiet down. Quiet down!" she croaked when she returned. To Lee's surprise, she recited the list from memory. He was sure Madam Rou had only looked over it for a few minutes at most. "By order of King Kuei, for the protection and safety of his citizens, the following laws are effective immediately:

1\. Curfew is in effect throughout Ba Sing Se from sun up to sundown. (No. I don't know if that means below the Wall or the horizon. Well, then just assume the Wall to be safe, idiot.)

2\. A blackout is in effect from sundown until sun up.

3\. Rationing is in effect as follows: only those designated by the military may sell food; those not designated shall have their food stuff confiscated and distributed to those who are; citizens may only purchase food from their assigned vendor (Hold on! It's getting to that!); if you are unsure of your assigned vendor, a list will be provided at post offices and courthouses (See, I told you. Now shut up until I'm done reading); only those citizens with a ration card may receive rations; ration cards may be obtained at any government building.

4\. The right to assembly is hereby suspended (I don't know if that means your band. Go ask someone who cares.)

5\. The right to freedom of speech - verbal, nonverbal, written, or otherwise - is hereby suspended (Of course graffiti counts! That was illegal before the siege. Honestly, there isn't a brain between the lot of you).

6\. All public schooling is hereby suspended until further notice."

At this, Jin actually groaned in despair. Seriously, thought Lee. Get some perspective.

"7. All places of work are hereby placed under military control. The military reserves the right to determine production, labor hours, and wages.

8\. All police forces are hereby placed under military control. Any person already in custody or taken into custody may be held indefinitely without probable cause and without a court order. Private property may be searched without a court order.

9\. All courts of law are hereby suspended. A military court will hereby hear and rule on all legal cases.

10\. All citizens must register at the nearest post office, courthouse, or other government building within five days of this posting."

Lee worried about the brothers and the rest of the homeless population. Many of them were undocumented refugees who had been smuggled into the city.

"11. All movement between the Rings is hereby suspended without proper documentation. Documentation may be obtained at a government building.

"12. All reserve troops are hereby called to active duty. All reserve troops are to report to the nearest military institution by sundown of the day of this posting. Failure to report will constitute an act of desertion and is punishable by death."

Every man between the age of sixteen and forty rushed out of the room.

"13. Soldiers may be quartered in any person's house without their consent (Mmm...I wouldn't mind if a few quartered with me).

14\. Failure to comply with any of these laws will result in a fine of no less than 500 _yan_ and/or no less than thirty days in custody unless otherwise specified.

And that's it, people. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

It was, but complaining wouldn't change anything.

Fu and Lee decided to register on Rì-tiān. It was Tu-tiān now so that gave them three days for the initial rush to die down with plenty of time till the deadline.

With school suspended and Pao's tea shop probably now under military control (though Lee couldn't imagine what use the military had for tea), that left Lee with nothing to do for the rest of the day. So, Lee began mastering his sword forms in earnest. With no distractions and nothing but long, empty hours ahead of him, Lee set himself to it like fire on dry grass.

After a few hours, Lee took a break to relieve himself and eat.

A few hours after that, Lee's body refused to go on. His forearms were too sore to even hold the blades and walking normally had become a challenge. The sun was only a quarter way through its decent and Lee was too anxious to leave the apartments. But being left alone with his imagination and the Fire Nation at the gates was a bad combination. He decided a visit to Jin's place was exactly what was needed.

"Hi Aunt Jia," he greeted when Jin's mother answered the door. "Is Jin home?"

"Good to see you, Lee," she said with a tired smile. "Yes, she's in her room studying, I think."

Lee groaned. "Of course she is."

"One of you will have to win the bread, one day."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Jin's mother chuckled, covering her laughter with her hand. "Come on in. Make yourself at home."

Jin's twin siblings, Bolin and Biyu, were wrestling on the floor. They were several years younger than he was, so Lee had never made friends with them. Everyone knew it wasn't cool to hang out with little kids. Why? Because it just wasn't, that's why. None of this stopped them from trying to befriend him. And of course, this was usually done by way of tormenting him.

Lee tried sneaking past them, but they must've smelled his fear. Immediately, they stopped wrestling and rushed the older boy. The prospects of irritating Lee was, apparently, enough incentive to broker a temporary truce.

"Hi Lee!" grinned Bolin, grabbing his arm in a death grip. "Are you here to see Jin?"

"Of course he is," Biyu said as Lee tried shaking the male twin off. "Are you guys gonna get married?"

"What?" Lee was momentarily paralyzed with horror. " _No_! Spirits! Why does everyone think -"

"Oh! Oh! Can I be part of the parade? I wanna light the fireworks?"

"I call ringing the gong!"

"Wait. No! I wanted to do that!"

Biyu had now attached herself to Lee's leg.

"Ha! Ya snooze ya loose!"

"Hey! Not fair! Lee, tell her I wanna ring the -"

Jin peeked her head out from her room. When she saw the scene she immediately wished she hadn't.

"Hi Jin!" Lee grinned weakly. "Whatsup?"

She sighed. "I _was_ reading, but I guess that isn't happening anymore."

"Oh. Sorry. What were you reading?"

"The Complete History of the Earth Kingdom. Volume three."

Lee made a face. "Gross."

"You're gross," she said, wrinkling her nose. "You smell terrible. What've you been doing? Dumpster diving? Things haven't gotten that bad."

Lee blushed, suddenly realizing he'd forgotten to wash off.

Thanks for the heads up, Aunt Jia.

"LEE-ee stinks!" the twins sang in unison. "LEE-ee stinks!"

Technically, they all did. No one in the Lower Ring could really afford the scented oils and perfumes of the upper classes. Everyone smelled a little less than ideal. But one smell of his underarm let Lee know they could probably smell him in the South Pole.

"I can't focus with you smelling like that," Jin said, bustling him out of her apartment. "Or with you terrifying my siblings."

"I wasn't! They were -"

"Out!" she ordered, shoving him out the door. "Go soak in a river or something."

Half an hour later he was back, cleaned and with a fresh shirt. He wasn't sure where the twins had gone, but thankfully they were nowhere to be seen. He sat down across from Jin and watched her read. Her face was determined and set like she was ready to beat the information out of the scroll. A stray strand of hair kept falling in her face and she'd push it back unconsciously. There was something hypnotic in the rhythm. Fall. Push back. Fall. Push back. Fall...

"What're you staring at," Jin frowned at him. He hadn't realized he had been. "You're so weird, sometimes."

Lee scrambled for a reply.

"Whatever," she said, laying the scroll down and stretching. "I'm all read-out for the day." She yawned so wide her jaw popped. "What do you wanna do?"

Lee was about to say he should get back to practicing, but one attempt to stand and he knew that wasn't about to happen. His muscles had grown stiff in the hour (how hadn't he noticed the time slip by?) he had been sitting. He would stretch it out that night, but he wasn't getting anything else productive done today. That left them with hours of long...empty...boring daylight ahead of them.

Oh Spirits, Lee realized with horror. The Fire Nation was going to _bore_ them to death.

* * *

"Okay..." Jin looked at the pai sho board thoughtfully. Fu peeked at them as he meditated from the corner. "So the Cherry Blossom tile can move..."

"In a straight line or counter-clockwise."

Jin bit her lip thoughtfully, then moved her tile.

"I thought it was three spaces in any direction."

Lee moved his.

"Only if you're playing by palace rules."

Move.

"Are we not playing by palace rules?"

Move.

"Does it look like we're in a palace? No. We're playing tavern rules."

Move.

Move.

Move.

"I think you're just making up rules cause I keep beating you."

"Am not!"

Move.

"Oh yeah? Well, I just took your White Lotus tile. I win. That's four times in a row! Best five out of nine?"

"Ugh. I don't want to play this anymore."

* * *

"Look at that guy." Lee and Jin sat by the window, people watching. "He's got a funny hat."

"It looks like a sock."

"I wouldn't even wear it as a sock."

"It's so ugly, if I had to choose between freezing my toes off and wearing it, I still wouldn't wear it."

"It's so ugly, it scared Koh."

"It's _so_ ugly, sky bison learned to fly just to get away from it."

"Ha ha...that was good..."

"..."

"That's only the third person we've seen in twenty minutes."

"This isn't working."

"Wanna visit Cheng and Guo?" Lee asked.

"My parents say I can't leave the apartments. Besides, if we do, Taizu will just put us to work."

"Oh yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"Would you like to join me in meditation?" Fu asked politely.

Jin and Lee looked at each other and shrugged. Why not?

* * *

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Yeah, this isn't working," Lee said, getting up.

* * *

"I know!" Jin exclaimed. "You could teach me some forms! You know, the stuff you and Fu do."

She had watched him a few times. Whenever she came over in the middle of his lessons, Fu wouldn't let him break form until he was done. She loved watching the dance-like movements. Plus, an audience clearly made Lee uncomfortable, which made watching him even more fun.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Lee said with a frown.

"Why? Cause I'm a girl?" The look she gave him dared him to say anything sexist.

"What? No! Crap, you're crazy."

"Then why not?"

Lee thought about telling her, but he knew it would only piss her off. The truth was, at some point during his training, Lee had realized just what Fu was training him to do: he was training Lee to kill people. Lee didn't like the idea, but if it came down to it, he thought he could do it.

Jin on the other hand...Lee was very uncomfortable with the idea of Jin taking anyone's life. Fu told him it gave you nightmares and messed up your soul. He didn't know what Fu meant by that last part, but the old man had never been able to put it into words. Lee thought he could handle a few nightmares for the price of staying alive or protecting someone he cared about. But that was a burden he'd rather not put on Jin.

As long as he was there to protect her, she would never have to go through that herself.

But Jin didn't like people making those kinds of decisions for her, good as his intentions might be.

"Hello? Lee? Still there?" she was asking. "Will you show me or not?"

Lee pulled himself from his thoughts.

"Uh...maybe later," he lied. "I'm too sore right now."

"Whimp."

"Whatever."

* * *

"So how do you think they brought the Wall down?" Jin asked.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"But don't you think-"

"I _don't_ wanna talk about it."

"Fine."

* * *

"Hey!" Lee was struck with sudden inspiration. "What if we-"

A pounding sound came from the door frame. They all went quiet.

"Mister Renshu?" Lee was surprised to see Rong's father when he opened the door. He had never visited them before.

"Hello Lee." Rong's father was the most physically intimidating man Lee had ever met. He loomed over Lee like a mountain, with limbs as thick and hard as oak. He wore his beard long and well kept, though the edges were ragged and singed from the heat of the forge. A blacksmith's beard was a point of pride, apparently. Long hair of any kind was a safety hazard in the forge. To keep a beard long and unburnt was a mark of one's skill. "May I speak with your father? Alone?"

"Of course," Fu answered for him. "Give us a moment, children. This shouldn't take long."

"Yeah, sure thing," Lee said, pulling Jin out the door with them. "We'll give you guys some privacy."

As if, Lee thought.

As soon as the screen closed behind them they raced down to the lobby.

"Madam Rou! Madam Rou!" He knocked on her office window till she opened it. Her wrinkled face was folded over in an irritated frown.

"What? What do you want? Didn't Fu ever teach you any manners?"

Madam Rou was probably the meanest, grumpiest penny-pincher Lee had ever met. But he knew she had a weakness for gossip. He explained the situation in a rush, emphasizing that Mister Renshu and Fu were sharing super top-secret secrets. Of course, he would be _more_ than happy to pass those secrets on _if_ she let them into the empty room above his own so they could eavesdrop.

Madam Rou was fetching the key before he even finished.

Jin and Lee bolted up to the third story and were pressing their ear against the floor just as Renshu said:

"...know how it goes with the war. Kids these days grow up so fast. Everyone wants to get hitched before they hit draft age. It was eighteen, back in my day, but I still got married the day I turned sixteen."

He let loose a roaring laugh.

"I remember well," Fu chuckled.

"Ah...I forgot how long it's been, Fu. I could spend the whole night talking your ear off and catching up...but...there's something important I need to discuss if that's alright."

"Of course. What's on your mind."

"I don't know where to begin. Burn it all, I guess I'll just give it to you straight." A pause. "The Earth King, or the military at least, is stranding the farmers beyond the Inner Wall."

A longer pause. Lee didn't quite understand what Mister Renshu was saying, couldn't quite get the words to make sense. Abandon the farmers? The Earth Kingdom wouldn't do that.

Then Fu said, "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Lee's breath froze in his lungs. These were not the things he'd expected or wanted to hear. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. He wanted to run away, but found himself listening anyways. He didn't understand why Mister Renshu would say them. The Earth Kingdom didn't abandon its people. They were better than that. Abandoning your people...that was something the Fire Nation would do, not them.

"What're your sources?"

"I overheard a group of soldiers discussing it when they came to pick up an order. One of them was talking about what a shame it was. He didn't realize I'd heard till his commanding officer hit him over the head for it. Got a big talk about classified information and not to go spreading anything around if I knew what was good for me."

"Perhaps they simply..."

"Fu. You know it's true. These soldiers...they aren't like the one's in Omashu. You've worked with them. You know how they are. All they're trained to do is defend. They could dig a tunnel to get the farmers out, but that just gives the Fire Nation one more way into the city. They'd never risk it. For all they know, the farmers are all dead and replaced with impostors. In their heads, the whole thing could be an ambush."

Lee grit his teeth against the truth in Mister Renshu's words.

There was a moment of silence. Lee could practically hear Fu's brow furrow in troubled thought.

Renshu said, "I know some of Taizu's kids are out there. I'd hate for any of them to...Anyways. I know you still have friends in high places. I was hoping you might talk to them, get them to reconsider their...strategy. "

"Yes. Yes, I'll do that."

"Thank you. How's Lee doing? He taking it in alright?"

"Yes. Lee's doing as well as can be hoped. He has a strong spirit. But also a gentle one. I fear what the War will make of him."

"I know. I spend more time worrying over Rong than...well. I spend a lot of time worrying about him. I'm just glad he'll never get sent to the front."

"..."

"Fire and ashes, Fu. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I shouldn't have brought up..."

"It's quite alright."

"I should...I should get back to it," Renshu said awkwardly.

"Indeed. Stay safe, old friend. Spirits watch over you."

"And you."

Lee heard the faint sound of their screen opening and closing.

"Lee..." Jin stretched her hand out to him.

"I'm okay." His voice was harsh. She pulled away.

Lee never found out if his father talked to his 'friends in high places' or what became of it if he did. As far as he knew, the farmers were never rescued.

* * *

 _Day 4_ :

Lee was grateful for any excuse to get out of the apartment.

The past few days had developed into a steady pattern: wake up, train, eat, train, eat, train, wash up, annoy Jin, train, sleep, wake up, train... When his muscles would get too sore, he would read with Jin. When his brain got too sore, they would play pai sho. Over and over, filling the seemingly endless days so another endless day could follow.

Without school, Lee had expected time to feel like summer break, where hours and days would lazily slip by without notice. But it wasn't. Lee was aware of every second. Any minute could be the moment the Fire Nation breached the Inner Wall. Any minute could be the moment he would have to fight for his life. And Lee could deal with that, actually. At least then he'd have something to do. What he couldn't deal with was this endless _waiting_. It was driving him crazy!

"It's unlikely they will attempt a direct assault on the Inner Wall," Fu had told him the third day. "They have our fields. They have our main supply lines. Most likely, they will simply try to starve us out."

If that was meant to make Lee feel better, it didn't.

All the while, Lee did his best to keep his thoughts from the farmers. Would they surrender? Would they be spared or killed? Would it be quick or would the Fire Nation have fun with it? And what if they didn't surrender? Would they die waiting for a rescue that wasn't coming? How long would it take them to starve? How desperate would they get?

When they had told everything to Madam Rou, she just shook her head. "Sad to say, but I'm not surprised."

Somehow, that was worse.

Spirits! It made Lee feel like an idiot. How had he never seen it before? How had he never realized what cowards they all were? All the propaganda with no results, all the military parades for trivial 'victories', all the campaigns that never succeeded in reclaiming any land. It's like the Earth Kingdom wasn't even trying to win the war. They just wanted to wait inside their walls and hope it all went away. Just like the Middies and Tip-tops holed up in their walls, hoping _they_ would all go away. It made him sick.

When he was alone, Lee thought dark thoughts about the Earth Kingdom, about the Fire Nation, about _everyone_. But now, Lee waited in line at the post office with Fu and he had something to take his mind off things. At least, he was trying to keep his mind off things.

They had been right. Most people had tried registering in the first few days, but it was still hours before they made it to the front of the line. The day was cool but hours in the sun left him irritable and slightly sunburnt when he got to the window.

"Fu of the Wang clan," the old official recited as she stamped his ration card with a seal of authentication. "Says here you're a certified Master, taught under King Bumi himself. And you're a retired general, no less."

Though phrased as a statement, the question was clear: what was a Master doing eking out a living in the Lower Ring?

Lee fixed Fu with his own questioning stare. His adoptive father had never told him he'd been a _general_. But then, with the way things were, no wonder Fu wanted to keep that quiet. Lee wondered what kind of general he had been.

"Yes, well..." Fu took his papers from the official. "Fate is a strange thing."

"Your name?" she asked mechanically as Lee approached the window.

"Lee."

"Clan name?"

"I...I don't know. Fu adopted me. So, Wang. I guess."

She looked him up in her massive census scroll. Apparently satisfied with her findings, she stamped his ration card and handed him his papers.

"Says here you've been assigned to work as a runner. You know what that means, kid?" Lee shook his head. "Guess you wouldn't. It means you'll be delivering messages between the officers and the front."

Fu opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't worry," she intoned, sounding utterly unconcerned. "It's perfectly safe. It's a relay system. He'll take messages from the Middle Ring gates and pass it off before he's even within a mile of the Wall. They'll explain all that in orientation. Report back here tomorrow before the sun rises above the Wall. Failure to do so will result in a fine. Next!"

"I already have a job," Lee protested. "I work at Pao's Tea Shop!"

"Not anymore," the official said dismissively. "We all have to do our part, kid. Next!"

* * *

 _Day 5:_

Being a runner turned out to not be so bad. It paid less than the tea shop, but the hours were longer so Lee actually came out ahead. He had less time to practice his forms but there was an upshot: he was fed a full meal at the end of every shift. And a real meal at that! With meat and everything! They had to keep their runners strong if they wanted to keep messages coming quickly. Though Lee suspected once meat started growing scarce their rations would be the first ones cut.

Fu was worried about Lee coming so close to the front, or even out on the streets for that matter. But he appeared correct in his predictions: the Fire Nation didn't seem interested in another direct assault. Their goal, hopefully, had only been to capture the fields. Now, they were perfectly content to wait them out. As the days passed, Lee's anxiety slowed ebbed until he could walk the streets without glancing to the Southern Wall every ten seconds.

Lee was waiting outside the post office when he heard a familiar voice.

"You too, huh?" Cheng said. He tried a smile but it came out more as a grimace. This was the first time Lee has seen him since the first day. His hair wasn't oiled and there were shadows under his eyes.

"Yeah," Lee said. Spirits. Cheng looked awful. "They're putting everyone to work."

"No kidding. If I knew I'd get conscripted this early, I'd have skipped school more."

Lee had to agree. "We're not conscripted. We're just..."

"Errand boys?"

"Yeah. Errand boys," he looked around for the larger of the brothers. It was the first time Lee remembered ever seeing one without the other. "Where's Guo. What've they got him doing?"

Cheng shrugged. "Earthbender stuff. I think they have him moving supply lines or something. What about Jin?"

"Healer's assistant."

Cheng grimaced. "So what? She's cutting off people's legs and stuff?"

"Nah, nothing like that. And she probably won't be there for long. There haven't been too many casualties on our side since the first day."

Cheng's face darkened.

"You alright? With...you know..."

"Yeah...Yeah, I'm surviving. Guo's taking it pretty hard though."

Lee didn't know what to say to that. He was terrible at consoling people. His parents were the closest thing he'd ever lost and he didn't even remember that. He couldn't even imagine what the brothers were going through. He only ever knew Cheng and Guo, but all the orphans Taizu brought in were like brothers to each other. And it showed on Cheng's face. It could only be described as worn, holding none of the manic humor and wildness Lee had come to expect from it. Lee didn't know what to do with this new Cheng, this Cheng who was sad and bitter. He just hoped the old one would come back soon.

"You know," Lee said. "I never thought I'd miss you being a smart-ass."

Cheng actually laughed at that. "Give it time. You can't keep a smart-ass down."

* * *

Jin's first day of work was not off to a good start. She hadn't even made it into the infirmary when the smell of burning hair and skin hit her. She barely made it to a gap between buildings before she introduced the alley walls to her breakfast. Well, it hadn't been much anyways.

Spirits. She hadn't even checked herself in yet and she was already a mess. She didn't even want to be here. She wanted to be in school or in her room with her scrolls. But she was going to make the most of it. Maybe, if she got experience as a healer now, she could get into the University through the Physician Program. Even if she was only a healer's assistant, practical knowledge had to count for something in the Medica. Right?

Once the heaving had subsided, she steeled herself. This time, she actually made it through the front door. The smell was tolerable if she breathed through her mouth.

Okay.

She could do this.

A pair of doctors rushed by with a man whose arm had been burnt to the bone. The white was very bright against the blackened skin and muscle.

Nope.

She was halfway through evacuating the rest of her breakfast when she felt a hand on her back.

"Here," the woman said, handing her a cloth. Jin wiped her mouth and nose. Spirits, she couldn't stop shaking.

"Sorry." Jin took a few deep breaths. "Sorry...it's just...I've never..."

The woman shushed her and smiled gently while Jin got a first good look at her. She was an older woman with long hair the color of moonlight. Wrinkles rimmed her ice-blue eyes. Jin recognized her necklace as one used in betrothal ceremonies. This woman was Water Tribe. Probably a healer.

"No need to apologize," she said gently. Her Qinese was perfect. She even got the accent right. "No one does well their first day. Honestly, I'm surprised they gave this job to someone so young. How old are you?"

"Thirteen," Jin said, trying very hard to sound older than she was. She didn't like being treated as a kid. Even if she was a kid. "I don't think they're making me uh...operate on anyone. I'm just supposed to run errands and change beds."

The woman nodded thoughtfully. "Thirteen huh? I would've guessed older. What's your name, young lady?"

"Jin," she said, grinning from the 'would've guessed older' comment.

"A pleasure to meet you, Jin. I'm Akanna."

"A pleasure to you as well, Ms. Akanna."

"Oh! And she's polite too! I'll tell you what, Jin. I bet you're really bright, aren't you."

"Well...I mean..."

Akanna laughed. It was a nice laugh. Like waves at the beach. "No need to modest, Jin. They don't usually give jobs like this to children unless they're recommended. Some teacher or principal must be very impressed with you."

Jin didn't know what to say, so she just blushed. It made her earlier episode much more embarrassing if they were already expecting a lot from her. She bet Lee wouldn't have freaked out. He would've wrinkled his nose then gritted his teeth and got to work. His eyes would've blazed the way the did when he was determined.

"Hey...hey...don't make that face." Akanna smiled kindly. "You're doing better than my first day as a healer. I went through months of training and even then I locked myself in a broom closet for half the day after my first burn victim."

"Really?" Jin felt a little better.

"Really."

Akanna held out her hand, clearly offering for Jin to take it. She did.

"You ready to go back in?"

Jin set her face.

"I'm ready."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you, as always, for your time. And thank you to everyone who took the time to write an encouraging review. Seriously, it's the crack cocaine that keeps me writing this thing. I hope y'all are ready because things are about to get **dark**.

Shout out to **ML8991** for the insightful comments and help editing.

 _Below are some boring explanatory notes about the AU:_

 _Dìyù_ is, according to Wikipedia, the hell of Chinese mythology.

 _Nibui me_ is slang for non-benders. Since the Avatar cannon didn't have one, I made up my own. According to Google Translator, _nibui me_ is Japanese for 'dull eyes', refering to the fact that benders have eye color specific to their elements while most non-benders have brown or darker eyes. It's not true in all cases, but hey! That's how stereotypes work!

The days are based off the transliteration for the Mandarin radicals for 'sun', 'moon', 'air', 'water', 'earth', 'fire', and 'spirit' with the transliteration for 'day' added to the end.

If you're appalled at my translating abilities or my knowledge of Asian culture (or lack thereof) and want to lend your knowledge to the story, hit me up. One of the things I've always loved about Avatar is the diligence it pays to Asian culture and I would like to be able to do the same.

In (my) Earth Kingdom culture, adults who are close family friends are called 'Uncle' and 'Aunt'. So when Lee calls Jin's mother 'Aunt Jia' he isn't implying any biological relation. Sorry, Lannisters. No incest in this story.


	5. Mongrel

**The Siege pt. 2**

 _Day 73:_

It had been a long time since Lee felt full. Now, he glared at his rations like he could multiply them through sheer intimidation – like they were hiding and he was scaring them for the location of the rest.

Half rations, he brooded bitterly. _Half!_ And in the middle of winter too! The time when they needed rations the most. He knew the city needed to stretch their stores, but _half_?

Northern Ba Sing Se was already up to the middies in snow. The Huān Zhao Mountains to the northeast sheltered Ba Sing Se from the worst of the winter storms coming off the Frozen Sea, and the walls did a good job of keeping out the rest. That didn't stop the frigid, dry air from chapping his lips and seeping into his bed at night though. The cold didn't bother him as much as those around him. Lee never even bothered with a coat while all his friends, except Cheng, never went out without wearing one or two. But the cold made his nose runny which was annoying so he cursed it with every foul word he could muster. His only consolation was knowing the Fire Nation soldiers outside their walls were getting the worst of it.

The Fire Nation threat seemed strangely distant than it once had. If not for the curfew and rations, Lee could almost forget they were there. Their catapults could easily rain fire over their walls, but thus far none had come. Lee wondered if they were trying to spare the city's civilians – those were the only people who would suffer from the Fire Nation's artillery – but somehow, he couldn't quite accept that.

Today, the wind was still, but dry enough to crack his lips. It must've been cold by the way those around him shivered and rubbed their hands, but his own body heat kept him strangely warm against the weather. He wondered if his family was from the northern colonies. Maybe he was just used to colder weather? He'd have to ask Fu.

Lee kept his head down as he walked. His bangs were long enough now to obscure his eyes, but what he really needed was a good, wide brimmed hat. He really didn't have the money for one, but he needed it desperately to hide his face. It was a bad time to have golden eyes in Ba Sing Se.

There were names for people like him, colonials with Fire in their blood. Some of the more popular were piss-eye or ash-hole. The latter had spread like wildfire in their district, and Cheng regretted ever inventing it. But the most popular slur by far was _zázhong_ – mongrel.

There were plenty of _zázhong_ (there was no inoffensive term for people like him) in the city, immigrants or refugees fleeing the colonies under Fire Nation rule. Some were seeking safety or wealth or just a better life. Few found it, but that didn't stop thousands of them pouring in from the colonies every year. It had never really occurred to Lee that he was one of them. There wasn't a tight-knit community of _zázhong_ in the Monorail Corridor. Most were stuck in the Southern Slums. He knew he was a colonial in a detached kind of way. It had been a bit of a surprise the first time someone had called him a piss-eye.

That was a month ago.

It started small: a dumb remark about his appearance or a dirty look from merchants and guards like he'd already committed a crime. He learned to ignore the judgmental glances and insulting slurs.

"Endure like the earth," Fu had instructed him. "Like a stone in a river, let the words flow over you, then away. They will tire of their game."

So Lee had shrugged off the abuse. If he ignored them long enough, it would end. But apparently, no one else got the message.

Things escalated. A few of the more radical newspapers in the city began running stories claiming the _zázhong_ were Fire Nation spies, that they were behind the Outer Wall's collapse. And there were plenty of people afraid and desperate enough to believe them. Not all of them. But enough.

Trash now accompanied the insults thrown at him. Lee knew he shouldn't let it bother him, but it did. Mostly, because he didn't understand it. He had nothing to do with the War. His parents had nothing to do with it. He had supported the Earth Kingdom for as long as he could remember. He wasn't over the military leaving the farmers to die, but he'd still prefer they won than the Fire Nation. He tried explaining all this to the people who spat and jeered at him. They never cared to listen, so Lee no longer cared to explain.

What in _dìyù_ had happened to his city? It had changed so much. The people had changed so much. The Lower Ring, had always been rough but if you were smart and careful you could survive. It had never been senseless. It had never been savage. No one really bothered the _zázhong_ before. Occasionally, some nationalist with a chip on his shoulder would call slurs after them, but for the most part the city ignored the outsiders.

Now, they had become suddenly, terrifyingly aware of their presence.

Fu had tried explaining it to him. "The people are scared and they are angry, but they feel helpless against the things causing this fear and anger. Instead of enduring together, people become cruel to each other. In this way, they have the illusion of control – of justice."

"But why me?"

"Because," Fu had said sadly, "you are not of the Fire Nation. But you are close enough."

"That doesn't make sense."

"No, it does not," Fu agreed. "As I said, it's only an illusion. But I fear many will prefer the comfort of that illusion to a reality they have no control over."

Something roused Lee from his troubled thoughts. A deep uneasiness weighed in his gut. Nothing stood out to him as particularly dangerous, but his instincts screamed danger at him. Fu taught him that his spirit could recognize danger long before his waking mind was aware of it. When in doubt, he was taught to always trust his instincts.

He took a side route to his home, the one he took when the abuse of the main road became unbearable. Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the threat became obvious. He was being followed – three boys his own age, from the looks of it. He immediately knew who they were.

No problem. He was close enough to home that he could…

It was in the middle of looking behind him that he ran square into the hard body that had stepped out in front of him. He lost his grip on his rations and they spilled on the muddy ground. Rough hands grabbed him, pinning his arms.

"Yo, Kun! This the little mutt that did you in last week?"

Kun? Lee knew that name. The boy had shared a class with Lee a few years ago. Everyone knew his father was a drunk and a racist who raised his children to be just as bad. More recently, Kun and two friends had jumped Lee about a week ago. They tried to jump him, anyways. It hadn't gone so well for them.

"That's him, Yezhu," Kun said, flanked by the other two boys from before. Yezhu must've been Kun's older brother. They had the same piggish nose and beady eyes. But where Kun was thin as the rags he wore, Yezhu was larger than Guo. His arms were massive and boar-like. His hands were calloused and scared. They were made for beating in faces.

Yezhu eyed him with his piggish eyes. "That right? You beat down my little bro?"

Lee tried to stay calm, sizing up the situation. "They jumped me first. I beat them soundly, but fairly. Our fight's over."

"Your fight's over, huh?" Yezhu laughed. It was ugly, like the rest of him. Quick as wind, the older boy smashed his forehead into Lee's nose. Pain blinded Lee. In that moment, Yezhu twisted his arm into a harsh hold. Lee's shoulder burned, the pain burning down the length of his arm. "Our fight ain't over till I say it's over! You hear me, you little sack of shit!"

He tried elbowing the boy's solar plexus, but Lee was dizzy and weak and missed. Yezhu grunted but otherwise didn't seem affected at all. He shoved Lee against the alley wall, pinning his free arm and grinding his face into the stone.

"Kyoshi's tits, Kun! You let a little piss stain like him beat the three of you."

"S'not like that, bro. He's crazy. Fought like a demon. We didn't…"

"Burn your tongue, you sound like a kicked bitch." Three others emerged, flanking Yezhu. There were seven of them now, blocking both ends of the alley. He addressed Lee again. "I ought'ta let you have another swing at my little chicken-shit brother. He needs it. Soft as an airbender, he is."

The other boys snickered. Kun's face was red but he said nothing.

"You'd be doing us a favor if you kicked the stones outta him. But here's the thing. It's a matter of honor, see? And you dishonored him." Yezhu explained as if speaking to a toddler. "That's fine by me. A piss puddle has more honor than him. But he's still my brother. He's family, see? If you dishonor him, you dishonor me."

"Yeah!" Kun agreed. "You dishonor _him._ "

"You dishonor all true Earth Kingdom citizens." He twisted Lee's arm till he thought it would burst from its socket.

"Yeah! All true citizens!"

"We can't let a little ash-hole mutt get away with that. That shit's not cool, man."

"Not cool!"

Yezhu groaned his exasperation. "Kun, will you _shut up!_ " The last words were screamed as his face turned murderous. "I swear on mom's burnt corpse I will feed you your own bleeding tongue if you say another burning word!"

"You can't talk about mom like that…"

Lee's head struck the wall as Yezhu threw him against it. His vision went dark around the edges and his ears rang, but he could make out Kun's squeal as his brother struck him straight over the mouth. The two boys accompanying him did nothing but avert their eyes.

"You see the shit you've caused?" Yezhu screamed, returning to Lee. He tried to pick himself up, using the wall as a crutch, when a heavy boot drove into his stomach. Lee fell. The pain was unlike anything he'd felt before. The world spun and he no longer knew which way was up.

"You. Filthy. Burning. Piss-eyed. Freak." Every word was punctuated with another kick. His ribs. His stomach. His face. The blows were erratic. He couldn't cover everywhere they struck. Vaguely, he was aware that the other boys must've joined.

"You're garbage!"

He felt something break in his ribcage.

"Get out of our city!"

Something inside him tore.

The words ran together – like his blood and the mud beneath him.

* * *

He knew he must've blacked out because the dragons had come to him again.

The Blue Dragon was angry. It hissed and roared, coiling and rippling like a grease fire. Its eyes were full of bitter malice and bloodlust. But it didn't scare Lee. He felt the same emotions seething in his own heart.

The Red Dragon tried to appease the blue. It rumbled so deep, Lee felt it in his chest. He felt comfort and strength vibrate though his bones. The Red Dragon wrapped around him in a soothing warmth…burning away his aches and pains…

A hand reached for him…a hand with a blue arrow…

He blinked hard and the hand was gone, replaced by one that was aged and tanned as leather. His eyes traced the hand to a wrist…an arm…shoulder…neck…face…kind blue eyes…

"You're awake," Akanna noted. "That's a good sign."

The source of the warmth, Lee realized, was not the flame of a dragon, but the healing power of the waterbender.

Then the pain hit him like a wall.

Roku's flaming beard!

His head was a throbbing mess. Every sense an assault on his mind. His neck was too sore and stiff to move. He tried groaning but expanding his lungs by any fraction sent sharp pains through his sides. Under all that were a multitude of other aches and pains – a swollen eye, a few broken nails, a hundred other cuts and bruises – that his mind couldn't even begin to register. It was too much for to process so it focused on only the most excruciating.

By instinct, he tried to rise, but Akanna gently pushed him down.

"I wouldn't do that," she warned. "Your intestinal wall was torn and several of your ribs are broken. I managed to patch the tear and strengthen the muscle and tissue around your ribs, so they should heal straight, but you'll have to limit your movement for the time being."

"Isn't there more you can do?" Lee tried to turn his head, but his neck protested. He recognized the voice as Jin's.

Akanna shook her head. "Not without opening him up. Internal injuries are difficult. I stimulated the _chi_ around those areas. That'll speed up the healing process, but I'm afraid his body will have to do the rest."

Slowly, painfully, Lee fought his stiff muscles and turned his head to see Jin.

"What…" The sound of his own voice shocked Lee into a moment of silence. His throat was impossibly dry and raw. The sound coming out of it was little more than a frayed whisper. He tried again. "Jin…"

"I'm here," she said, moving to his side. She grasped Lee's hand like he would disappear if she let go. He returned her grip. Her hands were soft and warm, even more than Akanna's healing water. He imagined her touch healing all the broken things in him. Instead, gripping her hand sent a ragged throbbing through his arm and shoulder.

"What…happened? Where…" Lee tried to convey as much meaning in as few words as possible. Talking hurt like he'd swallowed a live coal.

"You went missing," Jin explained. "When you weren't back by curfew, Madam Rou got the whole apartment complex – well, most of them – looking for you. You weren't far, but you were…you…you'd been there a long time. You weren't moving. We thought you were…"

Jin took a moment to compose herself, wiping snot and tears from her face. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her hair was a mess. Her face, pale.

"We thought you'd died, but then you started coughing and shaking. You were running a bad fever. They took you back to the apartment and I ran to get Akanna." She looked at him like he'd come back from the dead. He realized he had no way of knowing how bad he looked. He didn't think he wanted to.

"Fu…where…"

"Just outside," Akanna answered. "So many people wanted to know you were alright, I had to kick them all out. Jin's here because she's the only one I trust to assist me." She smiled kindly at him. "You have many people who care about you, Lee. You're very lucky."

Lee was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue or to hear the wistfulness in her voice. He didn't feel very lucky just then. He felt like he'd been dug up from under a rock slide.

Lee opened his mouth to ask about Yezhu and the others but his body stopped cooperating. He was exhausted…he needed to…he need…ed…

The dragons carried him off to sleep.

* * *

Akanna stepped outside the apartment, closing the sliding door behind her. Jin stayed back to watch over Lee. Healing always left her exhausted. It wasn't the hocus-pocus magic many people believed and she wasn't a miracle worker. It required tremendous effort, just like any other bending art. Guiding another's _chi_ was a meticulous process in the first place, and she had poured no small amount of her own _chi_ into the boy to accelerate the mending. The whole ordeal left her drained and her thoughts blurry.

But there was still one matter that needed attending before she was done for the night.

A large crowd gathered in the hallway outside the boy's home. His father – by adoption, if she understood correctly – headed the assembly, but among them were Jin's family, Madam Rou, and other concerned neighbors.

The boy's father opened his mouth to speak, but before he could a small boy with wide, amber eyes intercepted her. "Hey lady! Lee's alright, isn't he? He's gonna live, right?"

"Cheng," the elder man reprimanded, "show respect to Master Akanna."

"Excuse him, ma'am," a tall, serious boy said with a bow. "He speaks more than he thinks. Could you tell us how our friend's doing?"

The healer couldn't help but smile at the affection and concern these boys had for their friend. "It's alright, really. I'm hard to offend," she laughed. "As for your friend, he's a bit worse for wear, but he'll make a full recovery."

A collective sigh rushed from the crowd. The wide-eyed boy began declaring that he'd known Lee would be fine all along. His serious friend smiled indulgently while the fat one agreed enthusiastically. These must be the boys Jin always went on about.

Madam Rou began shooing the crowd away. "Alright, alright, you heard her. Lee's fine. Nothing more to see. Stop crowding the damn hallway."

"Thank the spirits," the boy's father breathed. With a bow, he said, "Master Akanna, if there's anything I can do to repay you for your kindness…"

She shook her head. "It's quite alright. I don't heal for the profit."

She didn't need money. But she did need answers.

She was unsure how to go about this. If this man, Wang Fu, was sheltering someone like that Lee child, he was probably dangerous too. She was sure she could handle herself as a master waterbender, but the way he held his weight and positioned his feet told her that he too was a bender with decades of experience. His clipped accent told her he had spent most of those years around nobility. If this man wasn't a master himself, he was close to it. On top of that, the moon was only a sliver in the sky. If it came to fighting, she would be at her weakest.

Honestly, she should just walk away from the whole thing. So what if Lee was what she thought he was? So what if Wang Fu wasn't who he said he was? They weren't hurting anyone. They hadn't done anything that technically violated the law. She wasn't even Earth Kingdom. It wasn't her problem.

Yet this boy was the best friend – and maybe more than that – of her personal assistant, a girl she had come to care for as a daughter. She wanted to know Jin was safe around these people. More than that, she wanted to satisfy her own curiosity.

Well, she would just have to hope this Wang Fu character wouldn't endanger the lives of his friends and neighbors by starting a fight. If two masters fought in earnest, they would level this place like a sandcastle. She was betting a lot on the slim chance that this man was as compassionate as he appeared to be.

"Would you at least like to stay for dinner?" Fu asked kindly. "We don't have much, but we could spare enough to show our gratitude."

"Really, I'm fine Xiánjiā Wang," she insisted.

"Please," he chuckled. "Just Fu is fine."

"Your generosity is too much," she said, bowing. Oh well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Although, I would like to know why you're harboring a firebender in the middle of the Earth Kingdom capital."

For a moment, Fu simply looked confused. It was possible she was wrong about the whole thing, but she doubted it. She'd felt it while she was healing him: the _chi_ of a firebender. She would recognize it anywhere. Was it possible he had no idea what his son was?

Fu's face darkened. No – he definitely knew.

Akanna held her breath. Her hand reached for the water she kept in her pouch for emergencies. She could strike him down in the blink of an eye, but that might not be quick enough.

"Perhaps," Fu replied softly, "this would be better discussed in private."

* * *

 _Day 81:_

After a week, Lee was in remarkable shape for the thrashing he'd taken. But remarkable was a relative term – one that mostly predicated on him being alive rather than a corpse in some back alley. He was running a fever the first few days and still couldn't sit up without the feeling that his guts were tearing all over again.

On top of that, he had broken five ribs. Breathing was an agonizing process. At first, he tried keeping his breaths short and shallow, but Akanna quickly put an end to that. It had something to do with clearing the mucus in his lungs. If he didn't breathe normally, he could develop a chest infection. So he was forced to constantly expand his lungs in a way that seared his sides with every breath.

The aged healer came around only twice after the first rescue. The healer still worked the military clinics most days and simply didn't have the time or energy to keep coming around after she was sure he would heal properly. The first time, she healed his swollen eye and a few cuts that were becoming infected. The second time, it was just to check on his progress and make sure the fever didn't return. After that, she entrusted Jin with his general wellbeing.

Lee was fine with that. He liked Akanna and owed her for everything she had done, but he got the sense that she didn't trust him. Every time she came to visit, she watched him like a hawk. To Lee, it felt like she was keeping an eye on him, as if he might do something dangerous or stupid. Him? Do something stupid? The nerve!

And she was also a mystery. Healers weren't uncommon within the Earth Kingdom armies, but they always dressed and sounded like they were from the North. Akanna, on the other hand, rarely wore the blues of the Water Tribes and her Qinese was nearly perfect. If anything, her accent was slightly backwater Earth Kingdom. Strange.

It was now eight days after the fight. Jin was at the clinic but had promised to drop by that night; Fu was away at one of his mysterious meetings; and Rong was working the forge. So it had fallen to Cheng and Guo to entertain the mostly bed-ridden Lee.

Cheng was telling a story from work. Apparently, their commanding officer had refused Lee any paid leave. In retaliation for his friend, Cheng had filled the officer's boots with cow-goat shit. The trick was this: that glorious idiot had mixed the whole thing with tar so that it took the officer an hour and a half to wrestle his boots off. In the end, he had to cut them off, all the while smelling like crap.

Lee was struggling not to laugh, knowing it would only mean misery for his ribs, when he heard a knock from the door.

"Knock, knock!" said a voice from beyond the screen. It was familiar to Cheng, but he couldn't quite place it.

He turned to Lee. "Mind if I get it?"

Lee shook his head and Cheng went to open the door.

Standing in the threshold was an older boy several inches taller than himself. A bandana was tied around his forehead, keeping his wild hair at bay. It was longer and messier than when Cheng had last seen it, but he recognized the boy's crocked nose and half-cocked grin anywhere.

"Remember me?" the boy asked with his signature cockiness.

Of course. How could Cheng forget? The boy's name was Fen. They used to attend school together. Cheng remembered because the kid always had really nice shoes. His parents were cobblers or something. He also might've stolen them once. He couldn't remember. It was a long time ago and he'd stolen a lot more since then.

Fen made a point to single him and his friends out after that first theft. It was always a tit for tat kind of thing. A dead fish would find its way into Cheng's knapsack and bits of that dead fish would find their way into Fen's shoes. No lines were ever crossed. It was just a (mostly) friendly game of one-upmanship. Cheng liked the older boy's creativity and Fen respected the younger boy for holding his own against an upperclassman.

But then Fen had dropped out like every boy did when they hit fifteen. It was a tradition of sorts: take the pre-draft year off and live large before basic. They called it the 'Big Year.' It wasn't really fair to call them drop-outs. They weren't dumb or lazy. They just wanted to take some good memories and a few stories to war with them. So, they became known as draft-outs. Cheng hadn't seen him in almost a year.

"I went by your place, but you weren't there," Fen said, strolling into the apartment without invitation. "I asked Taizu where you were and he pointed me this way. Hey, Lee."

"Hey, Fen," Lee responded dryly. "Why're you in my home?" What he really meant was: Fen, get your burning ass out of my home. Lee never liked him. Nothing specific, Fen just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Heard about your little scuffle," Fen replied, ignoring Lee's irritation. He started poking around the apartment, as if looking for something. "Thought I'd come check in on you."

"How thoughtful," Lee said bitingly.

"What can I say? I could be a guru."

"How's your Big Year going?" Guo asked, obviously trying to diffuse the tension.

Fen shrugged. "See for yourself. Not much to do with the siege going on. Can't party with the blackout and curfew in effect. Even if we could, every drop of alcohol in this city's been rationed. Our men are more in danger of alcohol poisoning than the Fire Nation. Speaking of rations…" The boy stopped snooping around the apartment, satisfied that they were alone. His eyes had a conspiratorial gleam to them. "I happen to remember a crafty little war orphan who once stole a pair of shoes right off my feet."

"Whoa…Fen…buddy…" Cheng raised his hands as if to ward off the older boy. "If this is about the shoes, I don't have them anymore. See, there was this bagger-mole and…"

"No, no," Fen laughed, "nothing like that. Do I look like some loan hawk to you?"

"Uh…no. I guess not."

"Smart answer." Fen leaned against Lee's kitchen counter looking for all purposes like he owned to place. "Got anything to eat, Lee? It's bad manners not to feed a guest."

"It's bad manners to show up without a gift," Lee countered. "There's not enough to go around, anyway. I've got nothing for you." The bed-ridden boy didn't even bother to look apologetic. Normally, it was incredibly embarrassing not to offer food to a guest. But as far as Lee was concerned, Fen wasn't a guest; he was a home invader.

"Of course you don't," Fen said, obviously predicting the answer. "No one does." Then with a wink and grin, he reached inside the folds of his shirt and produced a pear. He tossed it to Guo who caught it clumsily.

"Where did you get this?" Guo asked in awe.

"It's a pear," Lee stated. "So what?"

"So what? Forget that pears were cut from rations weeks ago, have you ever seen one this fresh before?" He handed it to Lee, who examined it critically.

Guo was right. This thing looked like it was from a painting. He'd never seen a fruit so beautiful in his life – no rot, no bruising, no worms. It was soft but firm, not like the slimy stuff vendors usually peddled. Lee had never been so distrustful of a fruit in his entire life.

"Where did you get this?" he asked suspiciously.

"From someone who won't miss it," Fen replied easily.

He produced two more pears, one for each boy.

"Which means you stole it."

"Which means we took it back from the people who've been stealing from _us_ for years."

Realization dawned on the three friends.

"You stole it from the upper rings? Are you an idiot?" Lee demanded, horrified.

"That's awesome!" Cheng declared excitedly.

"There're pears in the upper rings?" Guo asked hopefully.

"We didn't _steal_ it from the upper rings," Fen corrected, amused at their reactions. "It… 'fell' from a cart heading up there. And these 'fell' from a vendor's pocket," he said producing what were unmistakably extra ration cards. The Lee kid looked like he was about to call the guard on him but the other two boys were looking at him like he was the Avatar back from the dead. "Don't worry. The vendor was crooked as a run-over rat-snake. When he took people's ration cards for inspection, he swapped them with fakes. He still gives them food like they're real, but he uses theirs to fill his own store house with all the good stuff while he hands out the rubbish."

"How'd you find that out," Lee asked. Roku's fiery farts, talking to this kid was worse than an interrogation from the guards.

"Because I was trying to make some fakes myself," Fen admitted shamelessly. "I got pretty good at telling the difference between the real and counterfeit. So I knew right away when my own ma got scammed." He pointed to the top right corner of a card. "There should've been a tiny bagger-mole right here, but there wasn't. I snooped around and found out it'd happened to a lot of people.

"Look," he said when Lee wouldn't stop glaring at him. "No one's starving for what we're doing, but my friends and I decided we weren't gonna let our families go hungry while the upper rings stuffed themselves. Everyone knows rations haven't been half as bad up there."

None of the boys argued. It was a generally accepted truth.

"Anyways," Fen continued. "I like you kids. You were always good for a few laughs back at school. And I know you got what it takes, so I thought I'd make an offer."

He didn't say what the offer was, but the invitation to join his gang was clear, if unspoken.

"No thanks," Lee said without a moment of thought. Living on half rations was hard, but bearable. And Fu would never forgive him for joining a gang. They weren't as big as other gangs, and it wasn't like they pushed drugs or killed anyone. But they were a gang nonetheless.

Fen didn't try to convince him. He bowed an understanding nod and turned to the other two boys. "Well?"

Cheng and Guo looked between each other for a moment. Most of the kids under Taizu's care were undocumented which meant no ration cards. They'd been making things stretch, but even Guo's face had become noticeably hunger panged. Against the constant ache of hunger, Fen's offer was hard to turn down. They also didn't have an honor fetish like Lee did.

"Give us a day to talk it over," Cheng finally said.

"Cool." Before he left, Fen turned to Lee. "If you change your mind, drop by the old monorail station. The abandoned one. You know where it is?"

Lee nodded tightly.

"Good. We hang out there most days around noon." He paused just before the door closed. "And for Spirit's sake, you can eat the peach. It isn't cursed."

For pride's sake, Lee waited a whole five minutes after Fen left before eating the pear, seeds and all.

* * *

 _Day 107:_

Lee winced. Jin had soaked the rag in _saké_ and it burned as she cleaned the wound above his left eye. Her touch was tender and practiced, but the alcohol still stung.

"What in _dìyù_ was it this time?" Jin asked, keeping her eyes on her work. It was hard to focus when she was simultaneously concerned and furious at the moron. "You _just_ recovered from your last beating! Don't tell me it was Yezhu again."

She rung out the rag and poured more of the strong wine on it. What she wouldn't give for some waterbending healing right now. On the other hand, Lee deserved to suffer a little.

"Different kids," Lee assured her. "Fu threatened Yezhu's dad so bad, they're all too scared to come within a hundred paces of me." He eyed the rag wearily, but Jin ignored the look and began cleaning dried blood from his ragged knee. It earned her another hiss of pain.

"That won't last forever," she warned. She didn't understand how someone as tough as Lee could turn into a pouting bunny-cat when she patching him up. "And you didn't tell me what started the fight."

Lee averted his eyes. If he wasn't ashamed of himself, at least he had the good sense to act like he was. "They called me piss-eyes."

"So you hit them?" she asked incredulously. Lee always had a short temper, but he never snapped that easily.

"No," Lee replied. "They called me piss-eyes so I said 'Better than having shit for brains.' Then _they_ hit _me_."

Jin growled with frustration. Why did he think that was any better?

After the first incident, Lee had taken to carrying his practice _dao_ when he went out. It did nothing for the words and trash tossed his way, but they looked real enough that no one was willing to openly fight him.

"You're an idiot Lee," she informed him.

Then, in her best clinical voice, she ordered him to remove his shirt. "Your ribs are still healing. I need to see if any of them broke again."

He did as instructed. Jin considered herself a semi-professional. She'd seen hundreds of wounds a hundred times grislier than Lee's contusions. That didn't stop her stomach from twisting itself into knots when she looked at his swollen and mottled sides. As much as she wanted to be mad at his stupidity, the sight made her want to cry.

What she wouldn't give to go back to the good old days when it was just stupid fun to look at a shirtless Lee.

But she was afraid those days might be gone forever.

It wasn't fair. None of it was. Lee was a hot head and an idiot. He could sulk for days and would hold a grudge if it was on fire. But he was also sweet and protective and _good_. She didn't understand how anyone could hate him, especially for something he had no say it. It sucked. The whole thing just _sucked_.

Lee winced and hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain as she probed his sides for broken bones. Thankfully, she found none.

"Didn't you have your _dao_?"

"Got me – ow! Got me when I was running messages," he bit out. "Lieutenant Niu won't let me carry them when I'm on duty."

"Idiot," she mumbled. "Sorry. Not you. Him." The conversation lulled as she decided whether to breach a sensitive topic or not. "You should teach me to use a weapon," she said, finally. Lee had turned her down on several occasions already and he only became increasingly more frustrated when she pestered him about it. But the streets were becoming more dangerous every day. She needed to be able to handle herself.

"No," he replied automatically – wearily.

"Why not."

"Because I said so."

Jin tugged at her sleeves, annoyed. "That's not an answer."

"You're not getting a better one."

"Spirits! You're such an ass!"

"Language, Jin," Rong remarked, entering the room. He slid the door closed with one hand, holding a bundle of cloth in the other. "Found some better medical stuff in my dad's room. Got some iodine and stiches if you need it."

"You just have iodine lying around the house?" Jin asked skeptically. That stuff was expensive. They never had enough at the clinic.

Rong shrugged. "Dad always keeps some on hand in case there's an accident in the forge. You've seen what burn wounds can be like."

"I have," she agreed, taking the cloth. She'd seen enough for a lifetime or two. "I don't think we'll need the iodine, but thanks." With the blood cleared away, Jin could see the cuts were messy but shallow.

Lee had insisted he didn't go home until he'd been patched up. He was hoping he could cover the worst of his injuries and pass off the rest as an accident. He didn't want Fu knowing he'd provoked a fight.

There was no way Jin could treat Lee properly in her own crowded home. Cheng and Guo's place was too dirty, so Rong had volunteered his own. Technically, he lived with more people than Jin – a grandmother, a few aunts and nieces, and two nephews too young for war – but his family wasn't living out of a cramped apartment.

"Don't you think Lee should teach me self-defense?" Jin asked Rong innocently.

Rong looked between them – at the way Lee glared daggers at her – and shook his head. "Oh no, you're not dragging me into this."

"I'm just saying, if someone tries to jump Lee again, I could…I don't know…back him up or something."

"I don't _need_ backup," Lee complained. "You'd just get yourself killed."

"Don't need backup? Oh, because the last two fights went _so_ well, right?"

"All things considered," Rong said amicably, physically stepping between his friends, "Lee got off pretty easy."

"How can you say that?" Jin burst out. "Look at him, Rong."

"I am," Rong said. His stoicism held the barest hint of an edge. "And I see a friend who got out with life and limb. If things keep going the way they are…he might not get off so easy in the future."

"Which is why he should teach me to fight!"

" _Enough_ ," Lee snapped. He had his reasons and he was too sore for an argument with Jin today. "Rong's right. It's fine, really." He needed something to break the tension in the room – get Jin to lighten up. "It's like practice for the army. Boot camp's gonna be a piece of cake after a few months of this." He forced a laugh.

Jin looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Lee…"

"Seriously, it's fine," he insisted. "Look, thanks for patching me up, but I need to hurry. I was supposed to pick up rations on my way home…"

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked, smoothing her hair.

Lee searched his pockets for his ration card. "Yeah…yeah…"

"I know you can't stay inside forever but maybe…" she trailed off as panic crossed Lee's face. He began frantically turning out every pocket he had. "What's wrong?"

Lee didn't answer. "No…no… _no_ …I _just_ had it this morning…"

"Lee, what's wrong?"

"They took it!" he shouted at no one. His face had gone pale. "They took my ration card! During the fight…Those _burning sons of_ –"

"Calm down," Rong said. "Maybe it just fell out of your pocket…"

Lee shook his head. He was breathing hard. "No. No, they took it. I know they did."

This was bad. This was really bad. Even if his card had just fallen out, there was no way to find in now. Neither of his friends even bothered suggesting he get a new one. Everyone knew it was next to impossible to replace it. Unless you could prove it had been stolen or had witnesses (in his case, the only witnesses were the ones who stole it in the first place) the government just assumed the claim was a lowlife trying to scam their way into extra rations.

And that was _fine_. They could all go burn. He could live on half rations.

But Fu couldn't.

His father was in great health for someone his age but he was pushing ninety. Even for a bender, who would live half again as long as the average person, Fu couldn't survive on their now meager rations. Not in the middle of winter. Not with an unending siege and more ration cuts around the corner.

Cold, hard fear clogged his chest. He felt claustrophobic. He needed to run but didn't know where he'd go. There was nowhere _to_ go.

"Have mine," Rong said, shocking Lee out of his panic. "My family is well respected and my mother served on our district's council for a few years. I think she actually knows the person who handles rations for our district." He said it casually. Didn't he understand how enormous that was? Spirits! He was even smiling! Lee sometimes forgot how far above them Rong was socially. "Getting a replacement won't be as difficult for us."

Lee wanted to. Spirits, he wanted to. But pride held him back. He wouldn't take any handouts. And he wouldn't take from his friends because of his mistake. It was his fault his card had been stolen. If he hadn't taken that shortcut through that alley, if he's hadn't provoked them, none of this would've happened.

"No," Lee said finally. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Thank you, but no." He mustered up as much confidence as he could and put on his most convincing grin. "I'll be fine. I've got some tricks up my sleeve."

* * *

 _Day 110:_

"Well, well…" Fen said around his cigarette when he saw the boy approaching. "Look who's not too good for us after all."

The truth was, Lee didn't have a trick up his sleeve. So Fen would have to do. He'd asked Cheng and Guo to talk to the older boy – put in a good word. Fen agreed to meet him, but wouldn't make any promises.

Cheng understood. It was a bit of an insult to turn Fen down the way Lee had. In Fen's mind, he was just trying to help the younger boy out, and that boy had spit in the hand he'd offered. Lee would need to be meek as milk and kiss ass like a courtesan if he had any chance of earning his way back in.

But Cheng knew Lee better than that. Lee had more pride in his pinky than the entire Upper Ring combined. So instead, he was belligerent.

"Trust me," Lee grumbled. "I wouldn't be here if I had any other choice."

Because _that's_ how you got people to like you. Great job, Lee.

"You've reconsidered my offer then?" Fen asked.

"Didn't you just hear me?" Lee growled.

Cheng had a strong desire to shake him.

"I want to hear you say it," Fen insisted. He took a drag of his cigarette – waiting – then tapped the ash onto the ground.

Lee audibly ground his teeth and took a steadying breath. "Yes." He choked on every word. "I've reconsidered your offer."

The older boy shrugged. "Too bad."

Lee looked like he'd just been struck by lightning. His mouth worked at what might have been a protest if he could get the words out. His face finally decided on a sullen scowl. His hands clenched and unclenched and his feet subconsciously shifted into a fighting stance.

What had he expected? The draft-outs couldn't let just anyone into their group, not anymore. Cheng could vouch for his friend, but coming back after almost a month looked too suspicious. Even if Lee wasn't a snitch (and Cheng had no doubt his friend wasn't) he was still a liability. If he said one wrong word to the wrong person, got caught and panicked, or forgot to check if he was followed, then their whole operation was busted. Poof. Weeks of hard work gone.

"You said – you said if I changed my mind…"

Fen took another drag and shrugged. "I meant if you changed your mind in a day or two. It's been almost a month, kid. Look," Fen sighed out a cloud of smoke, "it's the sad truth, but I gotta look out for me and my own now. You're a liability. Simple as that."

Cheng was thinking fast. Lee needed this, but the gang didn't need him. His friend had to contribute something: something unique.

"But we vouched for him!" Guo protested.

"And I hate to say it," Fen countered, "but neither of you are particularly unbiased."

As a runner, Lee had access to the Middle Ring. That could make a good incentive, but none of them were brave enough to risk a job up there. That still left Lee with nothing to offer. Nothing except…

Cheng's eyes caught the _dao_ on Lee's back.

"What? Lee? A liability?" Cheng asked, speaking up. "Are you kidding? Have you seen this guy in action?"

Lee turned to him, confused. "Cheng, what're you…"

"Lee," Cheng plowed ahead, "is an exceptional fighter." He could see it had an immediate effect. Fen's whole demeanor changed, no longer closed and suspicious. All Lee had to do was not screw it up. "He's got professional training; could probably take any one of us. You need someone like him incase things go south. I mean, look at these things!" He gestured to the _dao_. "I know they aren't sharp, but a few smacks from those could really mess someone up."

"Interesting." Fen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And he'd be willing to put those swords to good use?"

"Cheng," Lee hissed. "What're you _doing_? I can't use my…"

"Of course, he would!" Cheng declared, back-slapping Lee into silence. " _Shut up_ ," he whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"Give us a second to talk it over," Fen said, turning to his gang.

While he talked, Cheng threw his arm over Lee and pulled him into a huddle.

"Cheng, I can't use my swords like this."

"Why not?"

"Because…because it's _stealing_ , Cheng. They're a gang. I'm only supposed to fight in self-defense."

Cheng wrinkled his nose. "Well, if a guard comes after you, ready to beat your brains in, it _will_ be self-defense."

"This isn't funny, Cheng!"

"Who's laughing?"

"Ugh! You don't understand."

"No," Cheng snapped. The huddle became more of a head-lock. " _You_ don't understand. We're in this situation in the first place because of you and your _honor_." Cheng always considered himself pretty easy-going. His go-to in any situation was to laugh it off. But he wasn't about to watch Lee starve to death for pride. "That's great for you, Lee, but you can't eat honor. _Fu_ can't eat honor. And when you go to bed hungry tonight _again_ , honor isn't going to fill your belly. Just this once, think with your stomach instead of your head."

For a moment, Cheng thought Lee might start use those _dao_ on _him_. They stared heatedly at each other for a tense moment. Then Lee backed down.

"Alright. Yeah, you're right."

"Good." Cheng turned to see the older boys had broken from their own huddle. "Looks like they're willing to make an offer."

"Here's the deal," Fen said when they came back together. "You're in."

Lee, Cheng, and Guo let out a collective sigh of relief.

"But!" Fen held up an emphatic finger. "We need to see the kid's stuff first." Cheng did not like the look on the older boy's face. Stomping out his cigarette, he said, "Since we don't have any guards on hand, we thought it only fair to put Lee up to a little three on one."

Cheng blanched. "Wait a second…"

"Done," Lee said. "If I win, I'm in?"

"Didn't you just hear me?" Fen replied with a cheeky grin.

"And if I lose?"

Fen shrugged. "Then you get the snot kicked out of you."

Lee nodded.

Cheng pulled Lee aside. "Are you sure about this? Three on one sounds…risky."

"You're the one who suggested this in the first place."

"I thought they'd ask you to show off some moves, not fight them. Definitely not three on one!"

"Don't worry," Lee said, drawing his _dao_ with a flourish. They hissed as they bit the air. "I'll be fine."

Lee couldn't really describe what was happening to him. He was caught between honor and necessity. Fu would never forgive him if he saw his son abusing the skills he'd taught him. Even if Lee had noble intensions, his honor would be tainted by this. But on the other hand…Lee just wanted to _hit_ something right now.

For months, he had trained against nothing but his own physical limitations. He'd beat the air and dummies to a bloody pulp every day for months. The chance for some real action, to fought another person, excited him. For months he'd felt trapped – trapped by the Fire Nation, trapped by prejudice, trapped by his own city. Now, he had a chance to fight back. That thought calmed him in a way he couldn't describe, even as adrenaline buzzed through his system and his heart beat a thousand times a minute.

The boys scavenged around the old station for some weapons, each emerging with a hard piece of bamboo roughly the length of Lee's swords.

Lee quickly sized the three of them up. They were all a few inches taller than he was. That was fine. Their limbs were gangly from too many growth spurts and not enough well-rounded meals. They would have reach but (he hoped) there wouldn't be much power behind it.

"You sure those are practice swords?" asked one. His voice cracked on practically every word. "They look pretty real to me."

Lee impatiently ran his hand down the length of both blades. They were satisfied to see his palm come away unharmed.

Lee took a stance and the boys followed suit. He was immediately relieved. There stances were terrible. Too narrow, every single one of them.

Lee noted his position to the nearest wall. If the boys were smart, they would use their numbers to flank him. Putting himself in a corner was dangerous, but better than being surrounded.

"Here're the rules," Fen declared officially. "No killing. If you hit the ground or lose your weapon, you're out." A moment of silence followed as the boys waited for more instructions. "That's it. Those are the rules. Fight dirty. I don't care."

No one moved.

Fen waved at them impatiently "Go on! Beat each other up!"

So they did.

The first boy – larger than the other two and sporting a mohawk – rushed Lee without waiting for his friends. He held his sword high above his head, like a soldier in a stage play. The other boys watched their friend go a whole ten feet before they decided to join in. Too late. The first boy was coming at him in a way that suggested he had no intention of slowing down. Lee might've admired his bravery, but it was probably just stupidity. He shifted his feet and bent his knees, rooting his base.

Fighting with _dao_ , Fu often reminded him, was nothing like earthbending. Stability and resilience were the mark of a good earthbender. A master could take a mountain thrown at him without moving. But _dao_ were different. In a lot of ways, the techniques resembled a strange mix of water and firebending. The simple truth was this: a _dao_ wasn't meant to take a direct, heavy blow. Instead, the force was evaded or redirected – the opponent's momentum was used against him and his energy turned back onto itself.

Lee shifted his weight and stepped forward just as Mohawk entered the sweet spot. Ducking low, Lee used the sleek curve of his sword to hold the larger boy's bamboo at bay, guiding it to the side where it could only hit air. At the same time, he jammed his forearm into the soft belly of his opponent. In an instant, the momentum of Mohawk's charge came to bear against him, but instead of halting it, he guided the boy up and over, using his own body as a pivot. His opponent's feet left the ground as he soared over Lee. The younger boy didn't want to take his attention off his two remaining opponents, so he heard rather than saw Mohawk crash heavily and face-first into the ground.

Guo was cheering him on, but Lee wouldn't let himself be distracted. His vision was tunneling. The other boys were on guard now. They wouldn't underestimate him the way their friend had. Some unseen understanding seemed to pass between them because they began circling him like wolf-bats. Lee raised his _dao_ , arms held strait, trying to keep each opponent at the tip of his blades, rotating his body with them.

The whistle of bamboo through the air alerted Lee to an attack on his left. The swing was wild. Lee managed to sweep it down and away but he had lost focus on Gap Tooth who tried for a jab at his side. Lee pivoted, letting the momentum of his previous sweep flow into a quick parry. The spin brought him within his opponent's personal space: the area where a smaller fighter could thrive. As the older boy struggled to maneuver around the body in his way, Lee planned to strike the hand gripping the bamboo…

A kick to the groin left Lee reeling and nauseous. He barely registered what happened when the pain hit him like a boulder. It took all his willpower not to bend over and vomit on the spot.

What in _dìyù_ …

He couldn't focus past the splitting pain between his legs. He swung wildly and his blade caught an unlucky Gap Tooth who didn't raise his weapon in time. The blow landed solidly against his throat and the larger boy stumbled away chocking for breath.

Before Lee could celebrate his luck, Freckle's weapon cracked painfully against his side. It took everything Lee had to parry the shots his opponent threw at him. They were wild but fast and Lee's head was still swimming.

All of Lee's attention was on Freckles, so it took a moment to realize what was happening when his feet suddenly left the ground and the world began titling sideways. He was so occupied, he hadn't noticed Gap Tooth when he was tackled roughly from the side.

The pair fell heavily, dirt and pebbles grinding into Lee's skin as the boy's momentum carried them several paces along the ground. Lee shoved him off and jumped to his feet.

"Let me go again," he demanded. "They cheated."

Fen was unimpressed. "They didn't cheat. They fought dirty. Which was allowed."

"Let me go again," Lee growled. "And I won't lose this time."

Fen only laughed, and the others joined. All, except the brothers and Gap Tooth, who messaged his tender throat. Lee was furious. They were only laughing because they knew they would lose if they took him one on one. What did they want him to do? Beg? Well he wouldn't. He'd fight them all a hundred times each before that.

"That's a scary face you're making," Fen chuckled. "Relax, kid. You're in."

Lee blinked. "I'm…what?"

"You're in. Come on, don't look so surprised. We were always gonna let you in," Fen admitted. "Just had to put you through the grinder first."

Lee's anger faded into a surly irritation. He turned it on Cheng and Guo.

"Did you know about this?"

The brothers shook their heads vigorously.

"Go easy on them," Fen said. "I didn't tell them anything. I knew they'd blab to you if they did."

"I don't like being tricked," Lee sulked, sheathing his _dao_.

"If you're in, what does it matter?"

Lee wanted to argue, but a small, rational part of him warned that the older boy was right. He was in and he shouldn't do anything to screw it up. Even though he really, _really_ wanted to. He decided it would be better to leave before he did anything stupid. So he bowed to Fen, thanking him for the opportunity and turned to go.

"Hold up!" Fen called after him. "So here's the thing – you gotta get initiated before you can leave."

Lee's rumble of frustration was not unlike a volcano. His eyes were bright and angry. "I thought that _was_ my initiation."

"Nah, that was an audition," Fen replied, utterly unconcerned by the boy's dangerous mood. "Gangs usually make new members share a cup of _saké_. But we don't have any on hand. So…" Fen drew a cigarette pack from his pocket and tapped one out before replacing it. "This will have to do," he said producing a box of matches. He struck one and held it to the end of the cigarette. He used his free hand to keep off the breeze till the cigarette took. He threw away the expended match, took a long drag, then offered it to Lee. The young boy looked at it nervously.

Jeez, Fen thought. Some people just didn't appreciate what a nice guy he was.

"So, I just take a hit of this and I'm in?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Lee finally, hesitantly, took the cigarette and put it between his lips. Eyes never leaving Fen's face, he inhaled deeply…and immediately began coughing so violently he thought he might break another set of ribs. Roku's beard! This stuff was awful.

As Lee continued hacking his own lungs out, Fen turned to survey the damage. That kid – that sulking child, choking on his first cigarette, had made mincemeat of them. Kicked their asses like stray dogs. He was sure if it hadn't been for that dirty shot, the kid would've won. He'd never seen someone so young fight like that before. And his face. He looked like a demon.

Fen shuddered.

That kid was terrifying, no doubt about it.

A few months under Fen's wing, and he'd be a terror when he was drafting age. He almost felt sorry for those poor, Fire Nation bastards. They wouldn't know what hit them.

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow. Lee sure gets beat up a lot in this chapter. Sorry this took so long to get out. What can I say? I had finals.

Thanks again to **ML8991** for your insight!

R&R.


	6. Fire and Fury

**Fire and Fury**

 _The city of Hinotani_

Azula knew that today she would kill her first man.

She was a member of the royal family and thus certain things were expected of her. Her grandfather had done it. Her father and uncle had done it. Lu Ten had done it. Now, she would. She knew that this day was coming for some time. It's not like she has learned firebending to perform fireworks.

Azula had no illusions. At least, far less than other children her age. She didn't busy herself with fantasy worlds as her peers would. She rarely daydreamed. She held the world unflinchingly, and cut herself on it without a word. The Royal Court left no room for innocence. The self-deluded died quickly and early.

As long as Azula could remember, her father had taught her that only the strong or the cunning survived. The Court tested as only fire could test. Those it found unworthy, it burned as an impurity from gold. The weak were leaves before a blazing forest. What the Earth Kingdom might consider backroom politics were done openly in Azulon's court. Assassinations were applauded. A week without an Agni Kai was considered dull. Azulon prodded and encouraged such behavior. To him, the system efficiently ensured only the highest quality of counselors and generals made it into the Fire Lord's inner circle. Often, it meant that ambition and cruelty were the qualities at which these nobles excelled, but nobles quarreling amongst themselves were too busy to quarrel with their Fire Lord.

Azula heard a rumor, once, that the floors and walls of the Palace were not painted red to symbolize fire but to hide the stains of blood.

She believed it.

But the violence was necessary, it made the Fire Nation strong. So she had been taught for as long as she could know anything. Today, she would learn the price of that strength: the price that put her family on the throne three hundred years ago, and would ensure the dynasty survived for a thousand years to come.

Azula had no doubt she would make her family proud. Still, she was glad to have her friends with her.

The Royal Fire Academy was still out for the New Year festivities and her friends were spending the break in the Palace, as they often did. Even if school wasn't out, Mai assured her as Ty Lee nodded agreement, they would've ditched. They wouldn't let Azula be alone today and she loved them for it.

The three girls lounged around Azula's room as she brushed her hair. Lady Akiba Mai sprawled lazily in the middle of Azula's bed as Fukuizumi Ty Lee lay back down at the foot of it, her head lolling off the side so everything seemed upside-down to her. They both wore simple, red kimono, as opposed to Azula's intricate ceremonial robes.

"You really should make your servants do that for you," Mai commented as Azula pulled out the knots last night's sleep had left in her hair.

"I can do it myself," she said. Azula didn't like to rely on people; especially for something as simple as brushing her hair. She shifted her shoulders, trying to adjust the uncomfortable and ridiculously theatric shoulder armor.

"That's not the point." Mai rolled her eyes.

"Then what _is_ the point?"

Mai thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and yawned.

"For someone who hates nobility, you sure act a lot like a noble," Ty Lee pointed out.

"Well," Mai fidgeted, "I _am_ a noble…so, I guess…"

Azula smiled to herself. Mai had some secret feeling about the nobility that she wouldn't share with anyone; not even her friends. That meant it was something Azula could use - a tool. But the thing was stuck in stone and she needed to tease it out. Some tools were like that.

Azula wished she knew more. She didn't like not knowing, but she didn't feel like prying today. Her thoughts were too distracted.

Ty Lee giggled. "You don't make any sense."

Mai stuck her tongue out at her.

Silence slipped into the room, full of weight. It loomed over them like an eclipse and the room suddenly seemed darker, as if the light had thinned. Ty Lee fidgeted, wringing her hands, tugging her braid, crossing and uncrossing her legs impatiently. Mai only folded her hands in her lap, but her knuckles were pale. Azula stared hard at the mirror as if it had just insulted her. Each girl tried to edge around the silence – they spoke of school, of Madam Fung, who they all hated; they spoke of fashion, Ty Lee fawned over the new styles while Mai pretended not to care; they spoke of local palace gossip, Michiko had been married off to some noble's son twice her age – she was thirteen.

Ty Lee shuddered like she'd been doused in cold water. "Yuck. Not me."

"I know him," Azula said. "Yokota Toki. He's a good guy, a soldier."

"Oh, how do you know him?" Mai asked.

"He and Lu Ten were pining after the same girl last spring."

"Michiko?"

"No. Another girl. Nyoko."

"What happened?"

"Her father governs one of the colonies now. They moved a few months before Lu Ten went off with Uncle."

"I remember her," Ty Lee burst in. "She was _so_ pretty. She looked like a flower."

"She looked like an ostrich-horse," Mai declared.

The conversation lulled, buzzing like a fly over a body no one wanted to look at. Finally, Ty Lee couldn't stand it. She wanted the thing out in the open.

"Today's the day…huh?"

"Yup."

"You're um…I mean, you're okay with this?"

Azula cocked a curious eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just you're…I mean, you're gonna…you know…"

"Kill someone," Mai said, with all the apathy of a child who understood nothing of death. "She's going to kill someone, Ty. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? Are you serious, Mai?"

"It's just a deserter, right Azula? Not like they're sending her to assassinate someone,"

"How can you say that? Have you ever seen something get killed?

"Have _you_?"

"Yeah. I mean…not, like, a person. Our cook, Miss Hara, let me watch her kill a chicken once." Ty Lee tried to imagine the same thing happening to a person. She couldn't quite force the images together, like mismatched puzzle pieces. It left her feeling nauseous. "It's gross!"

"It's my duty," Azula said. "If I refused, it would dishonor my whole family."

"Sure that's the only reason you're doing this?" Mai asked.

"I thought you were on my side, Mai."

"I'm not on anyone's side. I didn't know there were sides. I'm just asking. That's all."

"Azula, doesn't it bother you?"

The question pricked Azula. Honestly, she'd had never considered whether or not it bothered her; whether or not it _should_ bother her. She forgot Ty Lee wasn't like her and Mai. Ty Lee came from the colonies. She hadn't grown up among a class of nobility who are as likely to poison you as to look at you. Apparently, out in the colonies, they even condemned assassinations. Ty Lee's repulsion baffled Azula and Mai, as much as their repulsion at eating an animal's raw heart might baffle someone of the Southern Water Tribe.

Maybe it should bother me, Azula thought.

"It's different," Ty Lee mumbled, "when it's up close."

Azula began to ask what she meant when a servant opened the door. She informed the girls that she'd been sent to collect the young princess.

The moment suddenly near, suddenly real, sent a nervous thrill up Azula's spine. To her friends, she asked, "Will you walk with me? Until it's time."

"Of course," Ty Lee said, taking Azula's hand.

Mai said nothing, but she took Azula's other hand.

The three followed the servant and said nothing more.

* * *

 _Day: 117_

 _Old Mining District, Lower Ring, Ba Sing Se_

The old monorail station was a heaving, half-finished thing that slumped with age. The walls sagged under the enormous weight of its gilded roof, bearing it with a doomed dignity. Water had invaded the old structure. It bled through the cracks. It seeped under walls and doors. It festered from the air, swelling into black grime in corners, on walls, from the ceiling. Moldy clumps of dust and trash – flakes of crumbling paint and wallpaper, shards of bottles and pavement, traces of those seeking shelter from a cold or wet night – carpeted the station's belly. A breeze slipped into the structure, throwing up the dust in a speckled fog which caught the glowing shafts of sunlight that leaked through the split walls.

The dust was everywhere. It coated everything. It lay in thin sheets like fresh snow and clotted into thick lumps. It pasted the windows and dangled from the ceiling. When it caught in cobwebs, it hung like moss from the rafters, from the supports, from every ledge and rail so the whole place looked like a swamp sucked of all its color.

The dust made breathing difficult as Lee and Fen sparred. It stuck to the back of his throat and made it sore. He swallowed several times, trying to clear the passage with no luck. Burn it. He couldn't worry about that now.

Fen assaulted him with a simple bamboo staff that he used in the style of a _qiang_. He had no formal practice with the spear-like weapon, but he spent days watching the soldiers at the Eastern Garrison and would spend hours mimicking their movements and drills. Lee wasn't the only one who needed practice, after all. The War would snatch him up soon. No harm in starting ahead of the other poor saps who'd be thrown into basic with him. Maybe it'd get him a promotion.

Yeah, right.

It always amazed Fen, the change that came over Lee when he fought. Even on a good day, the boy was a smoldering furnace, always popping and spitting up sparks. Any breath might send him roaring. But when he fought, he poured all that fire into his limbs. He fought like fury and struck like lightning, eyes wide and teeth bared.

Yet Lee maintained control. He never turned feral.

This surprised Fen most of all.

Fen sent a flurry of thrusts at Lee's belly – the boy parried, trying to keep his movements close and small. Though he had two weapons and, theoretically, twice the blocking power, he barely kept up with the lighter and quicker _qiang_. It struck Lee like a swarm of bees and the angle made it awkward to turn the blows aside with his _dao_.

Fen broke the pattern suddenly and threw a sweeping blow at his knees. The trick almost worked but, rather than trying to block the blow, Lee managed to dance out of the spear's reach, kicking up clouds of dust.

Lee learned quickly that Fen had good instincts when it came to fighting. If the _qiang_ took advantage of its reach, the _dao_ thrived on its mobility. Even still, the style depended on footwork and a strong root. Fen understood this. Forget breaking Lee's root, Fen wanted to chop it down and piss on it. The older boy took every opportunity to kick out kneecaps, stomp on toes, or break his shins.

"Make me crawl home!" he always told Lee. Good to see he took his own advice.

Abruptly, spots flashed before Lee and his vision went dark around the edges. He realized how hard breathing was. His tender ribs were still tight and the dust felt like breathing through a heavy cloth.

"Time out," Lee said, straightening. "I need some water. My throat is –"

Fen stepped in and drove his knee between Lee's legs. His golden eyes went wide and he doubled over, nearly collapsing, and let loose a deluge of curses. He tried to suck in air between the profanity but the dust clogged his throat and sent him into a coughing fit.

How many times was this going to happen?

"Roku's balls! What in – ack! – What in _dìyù_ was that?"

"Learn quick, kid." Fen laughed. "Your offspring won't survive many more hits like that."

Lee continued to spew obscenities.

"Fight fair, you shit-faced fuck!"

"I told you, kid," Fen knew to keep his distance until Lee calmed down. "We ain't fighting. We're brawling."

"You're about to be _dying_!"

He kept from pushing Lee too far. Not even the Fire Lord could survive that. But the kid had to _learn_. Lee had a quick mind, deft fingers, and just the right turn of luck; a natural born scoundrel. But someone had hammered an ironclad code of honor into him that tolerated no deviance. All well and good if Lee wanted to join a monastery, but not if he wanted to survive the army.

Honor, Fen knew, could only gild a man's survival instinct, not uproot it. He just had to drive deep enough to find the dirty bedrock beneath.

"This ain't your fancy dancing," Fen recited as he did at least a dozen times a day. He tried in vain to pat the dust from his ratty clothing. "The War don't care if you're enlightened or one with the universe. I care if you survive. I care if you win." He circled his protégé, looking for chinks in the armor of his honor. "You won't win if you don't learn to fight dirty."

Lee sat down and focused on controlling his breathing. It was hard. His head swam with anger. "I'm trying."

"Ain't about trying." Fen crossed his arms. "Fighting dirt ain't a skillset. It's a way of thinking, of seeing the world. I don't care if you have to bite off his pecker – you see a chance to cause pain, to make your opponent suffer, you take it. There's no such thing as a 'dirty' shot…

"…only one that'll finish a fight," Lee recited.

Fen seemed satisfied and gave Lee a hand up. He pulled Lee to his feet and the boy used the momentum to step forward and aim his own knee at Fen's groin. Fen reacted quickly, turning his hips so the blow landed on his thigh. He put an elbow in Lee's ribcage and shoved him away, laughing.

"Nice try, squirt." He flicked the boy in the forehead. Lee grumbled and rubbed the spot. Fen felt a twinge of brotherly pride. Honor would always shackle the kid; but Lee was coming around, day by day. "I think we're done for the day. Tomorrow we'll work on grappling."

Fen's method of teaching hand to hand was unique to Lee. Everything Fen knew, he learned from the streets. Instead of teaching forms, he taught general rules that no self-respecting "martial arts pansy" would dare practice: always aim for extremities and soft spots – throat, stomach, kidney, eyes were all fair game. Eyes especially. A good poke or gauge could end a fight. If you could catch your opponent's fingers, break them. Fists were rocks, but fingers were twigs and breaking one could put out a whole arm out of use.

"We're done? The sun's barely set," Lee protested.

"Yeah, but the boys and I are making a run in a bit." He favored Lee with a wry grin. "And I'm afraid a few more rounds with you won't leave me in any shape for skulking tonight."

"What's the job?" Lee asked, trying to sound casual. If Fen thought his growing interest strange, he didn't let on.

"Uh…some vendor up in the Climbs' been hoarding his food. Got some connection with the upper rings so no one'll bust him for it. We figure he won't miss it if a few things go missing."

Strangely, Lee felt pained at being left out. So far, Fen hadn't let him in on a single run. Instead, Lee would come to the old station during his free days to spar or practice lock picking or purse cutting or fishing – what the gang called picking a pocket. He didn't _want_ to steal – at least, he didn't think he did. No. No, of course he didn't. But the vendor was crooked, so it's not like he had anything to feel guilty about. The man was already a thief, so if Lee stole from him, the two wrongs canceled out. Right?

His hunger didn't help the problem. Lee hadn't felt full in two weeks. He cut down on his own meals and tried to make whatever he got from work stretch; all so Fu would have enough. Lee was in no danger of starving, but he shed weight like a winter coat and hunger constantly cramped his stomach.

Rules were rules though. No one got food unless they were on the job.

Lee's stomach growled.

Damn this War.

"You should take me on this time. You might need backup or another lookout…"

Fen lit a cigarette and sucked on the smoke. "Patience, young grasshopper. You'll get yours when you're ready."

"I am ready."

"Ready to get your ass caught by the city guard," Fen dismissed.

"If I knew I'd still be starving a week into this, I wouldn't have joined in the first place!" Lee didn't know where his anger came from. Maybe because he was so hungry? The painful knot sat where his stomach should be and prodded his temper with hot irons. "Burning spirits! What's the point?"

"The point," Fen poked Lee, "is to not get our asses hanged from the city gates."

"You don't trust me," he accused.

"Damn right!"

"I did your burning initiation. I practice with you every day even though I'm better than all of you!"

"Yeah? Then why don't you go steal on your own?"

"Maybe I will!"

"Yeah. Maybe you will. And maybe you'll get caught. You know what they do to thieves? They lop their burning hands off. That's what. Using _dao_ with one hand's gonna be harder than a hen laying an ostrich egg. See how good you are then!" He took a deep breath of his cigarette. Shit. The little turtle egg had him losing his own temper now.

Lee took a breath, filling his lungs to spit more fire at Fen, when the dust sent him into another helpless coughing fit. He turned and kicked a brick and yelled "Burning spirits!" when the impact nearly fractured his toes. Anger spent, he was left with only the dull scrape of his hunger. He looked down at the spoiled ground, ashamed of his outburst.

"Smoke?" Fen offered, tapping one out.

Lee took it and burned through half of it in one drag.

"When'd you light that?" Fen asked.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. My mind's playing tricks on me." Fen shook his head. "I need a drink," he declared.

"Fen, I'm so hungry I could eat the city clean." He exhaled the smoke through his nose. Like a dragon. Fen was quiet, looking at Lee for a time. He studied the boy's thin frame.

"Fine. You know what? We could use another lookout tonight."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I won't let you down."

Fen chuckled. The tip of his cigarette flared as he inhaled. "We'll see."

* * *

 _The Royal Palace_

As she approached the throne room, Azula heard Mother and Father around the corner.

"…delayed too long for your sake, woman. Anymore, and she will miss the proper time."

Mother's voice: "She's just a child."

"She is not just a child, she is a princess of the royal line. The time is long overdue."

Azula turned the corner. Father seemed about to say something but grew still when he saw her. Mother followed Father's gaze and ran to her, pulling Azula into a crushing hug, the thick layers of her _Jūnihitoe_ almost suffocating her. Azula returned it instinctively.

"Oh, my baby." Mother's voice was thick, but when she pulled away, Azula saw no tears.

Next came Father. Tall and grand, beautiful and terrible as a thunderstorm, flickering with restless energy. Father had exchanged his usual dress for an ornate ceremonial robe and armor. Gold trimmed the shoulder pads which flared up like flames. Golden thread embellished the rich silk, weaving into fierce dragons that danced across the scarlet fabric. His face assumed its familiar, impassive mask. In a strange way, it gave Azula some comfort. His eyes burned with something Azula couldn't name.

"Good luck," Ty Lee whispered, not knowing what else to say. She squeezed Azula's hand. Mai did the same. Azula was glad they wouldn't what came next.

Azula followed her parents as a servant opened the doors. Heat blasted from the furnace-like throne room, chasing away the cool air like hungry wolf-bats. Azula squinted against the harsh light as her eyes adjusted to the bright scene within.

Fire Lord Azulon occupied the Flaming Throne, looming over them like a dragon. Fire surrounded him so that Azula could only make out her grandfather's silhouette, but she felt his gaze like a heavy cloak around her. It reached into Azula and squeezed the breath from her lungs. She felt small, a foreign and hated feeling.

Nobles and other people of prominence filled the room, shifting like the fire behind Grandfather so that they almost seemed to blend into it. She could not tell their whispers from the flame's roar and she found them easy to ignore.

The crowd made an aisle before the throne and at its end, at Grandfather's feet, knelt a chained man. Two guards and the royal executioner flanked him, but it seemed unnecessary. The man was without shirt, and Azula could see the metal screws drilled into his pressure points, rendering him unable to bend and practically paralyzed. His head was shaved.

"Who approaches my throne?" Azulon intoned in the Old Dialect, the language taught to the first firebender by the Ancient Masters.

"I, Ozai, blood of your blood and flame of your flame," Father replied ritually. He sank to his knees and bowed so his forehead touched the polished wooden floor. Azula and Mother did the same.

"And who do you bring before me?"

"My daughter, Azula; blood of your blood and flame of your flame."

"For what purpose?"

"To prove her devotion to our Nation and its _Arahitogami_ ; to learn the price of our great Nation's strength; to shed blood for its preservation and perseverance."

"Then let her come forward and prove herself."

As she'd rehearsed, Azula rose and felt herself approach the foot of the throne. She was far away, in a dream – every movement strange and alien. For a moment, as she neared, the condemned man caught her eyes with his own. They drew her as the ground drew the rain, golden as the fading sun and calm as autumn's end. Azula knew when a man was afraid: a shift of the eye, a twitch of the hand. This man was not afraid. Azula couldn't tell what filled his eyes. He wore a white kimono, the right side overlapping the left - dressed to die. Slowly, as if letting her in on a secret, he opened his mouth. Azula saw his tongue was cut out.

Pity, she realized.

His eyes were filled with pity.

"Murai Kano, for the crime of treason, desertion, and slander against the throne, I, Fire Lord Azulon of the Royal House Miyamoto, Heaven's Appointed, sentence you to die. By my decree, your name shall be struck from all records, all your possessions shall be put to the flame, and all kin to the third separation put to the sword. You have brought dishonor to your house. May it be ash in the mouth of all who speak its name."

Azula stepped behind the man and his eyes were hidden from her. The executioner bowed as he handed her a knife – a fine knife. She did not quite see it but felt its cold weight against her palm. Her heartbeat shouted down the flames and their roar. The nobles held their breath.

She held the knife over him – right where his brain connected with his spine, just like she'd been instructed. His death would be instant. He wouldn't feel a thing. She need only push – not even with much force – and this whole thing would be over.

She pressed the tip of the knife against his soft flesh, concaving it slightly with the barest amount of force. That was it. She couldn't move any further. She pictured the dummies she'd practiced on a dozen times. She tried to push as she'd done before. Some invisible barrier held the knife at bay. She willed her arms to work. They rebelled. The man was shaking. No. She was shaking.

The crowd began to murmur adding to the dim of the fire and her pulse. The sounds made no sense. She couldn't think. Despite the heat and the sweat drenching her, Azula's breath felt frozen in her lungs.

The man bowed his head. She remembered how he'd looked at her: with pity. It filled her with a childish anger.

That was the moment.

In that one, brief moment, the thing beneath her isn't a man. It's a traitor – a nameless, faceless cancer that would infect and weaken them all. It is telling herself these things that allows her to do what happens next.

In that space between moments, she leans her weight into the knife. The flesh gives way. Then, stretched taut, the skin splits beneath the sharp point, slicing along the razor edge. It isn't like she thought it would be. She thought the knife would slide in, like cutting butter. Instead, she must push, shoving the knife through tendon and muscle and cartilage as she buries it deeper. It doesn't go easily. The traitor convulses. She feels it through the weapon, the vibrations traveling through her wrists and arms.

It's amazing! Euphoric. Adrenaline crashes through her system like electricity, like an eruption – harsh and thrilling! She stands on her tip-toes, driving the knife further. She's doing it! It's the feeling she gets when she masters a form, when she gets away with lying when she wins at anything. It's that feeling but a hundred times better – a candle next to the sun. She feels strong – _powerful._ She feels…

Warm, sticky blood pools from the wound. The body spasms as it falls forward, its muscles clenching in its death throes. A grotesque hiss rattles through its throat. The weight of its falling form wrenches the knife from Azula's grasp. She lets it go, watching as the corpse falls to the floor. She chokes on a rancid stench. At some point, the thing had soiled itself.

Suddenly cold and numb, she stumbles away from the body. She can't find the ground. She's transfixed by its repulsive twitching, the knife forgotten and jutting from the back of its neck.

This isn't…it's not supposed to be like this. She doesn't know how it's supposed to be. Not this. Something from deep within her screams that this is _wrong_.

She did this. With her own hands, she turned a human being – warm, living, breathing – into the pale, soiled, convulsing thing before her. She doesn't feel noble. She feels nauseous. It hits her like a physical blow.

She trips, blind, because she can't look away, and barely catches herself. Blood stains the silk sleeves of her robes, growing stark against the red fabric as it dries and darkens. A puddle of urine pools beneath the corpse. It grows paler by the second. How long has she stood there? She isn't aware of the crowd. She is alone – alone with the body.

Finally, she turns and retches.

There's a relief to it. For a moment, she forgets the horror behind her and focuses on the burning in her stomach and throat. She can't feel the gaze of the crowd, can't feel shame at vomiting in front of the entire court. But she _can feel it behind her_ , like it's _staring_ at her, though she knows it's impossible.

Father reaches her first. She continues to heave helplessly. His hand is warm on her back, rubbing soothing circles. The tenderness is strange coming from him. She almost thought it was Mother until she hears his voice say, "Well done, Azula. I am _so_ proud of you."

She can hear, as through a tunnel, the crowd cheering.

She cannot imagine how he, how any of them, could be proud of this...mess. Her mind is too tired to find logic in it. Things no longer make sense. Everything is confused. But Father is pleased with her and she reaches out to the comfort of his affirmation. She wraps it around her mind, guarding against the guilt and shame.

But then she sees Mother. There's a strange look in her eyes, as if she'd come to tuck Azula into bed and found a snarling animal instead of her daughter. Mother covers her mouth and takes a step away. Then another. Another. The crowd swallows her.

Azula's mind is exhausted. It demands sleep – some kind of solace to process the storm around her. She reaches her room, faintly aware of Father, and collapses in her bed without even washing the blood from her hands.

* * *

 _Monorail Corridor, Lower Ring_

For the first time in months, Lee was happy.

A giddy energy warmed his chest. The tension that'd built in him the past two weeks had fallen from him and he felt that any step would carry him away from the ground like a sky lantern. The feeling was not unlike the buzz of a strong cigarette – of which, he'd smoked plenty in celebration for a job well done.

His pockets bloated with pears, cherries, nuts and smoked fish wrapped neatly with twine and wax paper. Cotton crammed the nooks and crannies of his pockets to hide the crinkle of paper or click of nuts. The pockets bulged like elephant ears but made no noise. The contents did nothing to weigh him down. Airbenders must feel something like this.

Lee already imagined what he'd say to Fu, that he'd been promoted and received extra rations for it. They could both eat his fill and Fu would never have to know where the food came from. He allowed himself some pride in what he'd accomplished. He'd made up for his mistake. He'd redeemed himself all on his own. He regretted, only a little, that Fu would never know how hard he'd worked so they could both eat, but it didn't matter. _He_ would know. And he could rest easy knowing they'd both make it through the siege. He was already planning how he could share the rest with Jin. Spirits! He was a burning hero!

And there was something else; something he knew was true but couldn't quite admit to himself. Lee felt an immense satisfaction when he and the gang slipped away with arms full of food. He had the tremendous sense that he was taking back control of his life, back from a world that had coldly snatched it away. It seemed small, but he was taking his fate back into his own hands. The thrill bordered on addicting.

Lee slipped off his shoes before he entered the lobby of his apartment. The front door was unlocked and he thanked the spirits before inching it open. He stepped over the threshold and eased the door closed behind him. His socks made little noise against the wooden floor. He moved slowly, shifting his weight from his back to forward foot so as not to make any noise. Sticking to the wall, he crept for the stairs.

Madam Rou's window opened with a startling crack.

The light shocked Lee's eyes.

"Just where in _dìyù_ have you been?" she demanded.

"I – well…"

Lee swore silently. He prayed Madam Rou wouldn't interrogate him or leave her office. Or notice his bulging pockets, for that matter.

"We thought you'd been jumped again. Another hour and we were about to start a search."

Lee looked down to hide the guilt. His fists tightened and turned his knuckles white. His stomached twisted in a way that had nothing to do with the overdose of peaches he'd eaten earlier that hour. He had nothing to worry about. He just had to get past Madam Rou and everything would be fine.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Oops. He hadn't meant to say it that way.

"You plan on talking to Fu like that?" Madam Rou croaked coldly.

Lee said nothing.

"That's your problem, Lee. You only think about yourself."

Lee bit the inside of his cheek to relieve the sudden pick of ice in his guts and the warmth behind his eyes. How could she say that? Did she know what he went through to –

No. Of course she didn't. No one knew. No one _could_ know.

"Won't happen again," he said quickly, bolting for the stairs.

Madam Rou yelled after him but Lee didn't hear. His pounding steps probably woke the whole building but he didn't care. He threw open his door, past a startled Fu, – "Lee? What…" – and slammed the screen of his own room before Fu could rise from his chair. He emptied his pockets, stuffing the food hastily into his drawer and throwing clothing over to hide it. He kept one pear to give to give his father. It hadn't occurred to Lee how worried Fu might be, but once he explained (he didn't really think of it as lying) everything would be fine.

He heard an anxious knock from the door frame.

"Lee? Lee, come here." Fu's voice hitched with concern. It was rough around the edges but held no anger. At least, not yet.

Lee cracked the door open.

"Lee. Thank the spirits. I thought…" The concern in Fu's eyes narrowed into something harder. "Where have you been?"

"With Cheng and Guo. I just lost track of time and I got lost because of the blackout and all…"

"Lee."

"But I got a promotion at work today," the words tumbled out, "and you'll never guess but they gave me…"

"Lee. Look at me."

Looking Fu in the eyes was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Harder than the hunger. Harder than Yezhu's fist.

Fu sniffed. He leaned forward and smelled Lee's clothing.

"Have you been smoking?" He tilted his voice like a question, but Lee could hear the accusation in it. Stupid, Lee thought. Stupid of him not the realize he still reeked of tobacco. Lee said nothing. What could he say? He _had_ been smoking – the least of his sins that night. The pride and joy of before had fled, leaving him sick and ashamed.

"You missed curfew for _this_?" He said it like Lee had been out whoring or fixing an opium addiction. "What if you'd been caught coming home? You would be in a cell and we would have starved paying the fine!" His voice built momentum as it went, rolling like a boulder to crush Lee. "How could you be so thoughtless? Have I taught you nothing? Have you learned nothing?" Fu's words crashed Lee's world.

It took Lee several moments to work his voice around the lump of shame in his throat. He held a pear out to Fu.

"What's this?" Fu took it. "Pears weren't in our rations this month…"

"I got promoted." Lee's voice felt distant. It sounded numb in his own ears. "They upped our rations. The guys and I – we were just celebrating."

Fu set the pear down, uneaten. "Lee, I'm so proud of you. But you shouldn't have…"

"It won't," Lee said quickly. Tears were dangerously close to falling and Lee would burn before he let Fu see them. "I mean, it won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"Lee…"

"Sorry." Lee began closing his door. "I'm really tired. I worked hard today."

"Lee I didn't mean…"

"I need to be up pretty early so you might not see me in the morning."

"Son…"

"Goodnight, Fu."

Lee closed the door. He waited until he heard Fu's footsteps softly leave for his own room. He waited another few minutes, keeping his ragged breath steady.

Then, cold with rage, he stuffed his pillow against him mouth to hide the sound of his bitter sobbing. The peaches sat sickeningly in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

 _Azula's Bedchamber_

Azula sank and rose from sleep, shaking and sweating as though in a fevered dream. She dreamed of Kano. He stared at her with milky eyes filled with pity. His tongueless mouth worked soundlessly. Somehow, she knew. He was asking her a question.

 _Why?_

She must've thrashed in her sleep because she woke trapped like a fly in a web of sheets. She couldn't move, her arms and legs hopelessly tangled. Her breath came out short and fast and suddenly she was burning her way through the covers. The room filled with acrid smoke and ash as the silk caught fire. She screamed.

And then she was alone, sitting in the ashes. No one came. Not even Mother.

She didn't cry. Even as a child she never cried. But she swallowed hard against the bile that rose in her throat.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! I'm back. I could blame college or traveling for the delay, but, really, I'm just a lazy shit who started a new runthrough of Fallout 4.

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Thanks to **ML8991** for being the awesome beta that you are. Thanks to **Yemi Hikari** for your helpful instruction.

 **RandomOnlooker:** Thanks for the encouragement. Rest assured, this story is what I do for fun in my freetime.

 **soul Eater Herondale:** As you wish.

As always, my goal is to entertain you and perfect my craft. If you have any advice, criticism, or encouragement (hey, I'm not above fishing for compliments) please **R &R. **

Buckle up, kids. If you thought this chapter was dark, wait till the next one.


	7. Dusk in War Time

**Dusk in War Time**

 _Day: 120_

 _Old Mining District, Lower Ring, Ba Sing Se_

It was Xīnyuè Jié in the Earth Kingdom, their New Year celebration. And if the Fire Nation thought that a little siege would deter the festivities, Ba Sing Se was determined to prove them wrong. The festival started out cautiously as citizens tested the indulgence of the state authorities. Unlike most years, it began in the Upper Ring, the ones most likely to get away with breaking curfew and the blackout law. The next night, when the guards turned a blind eye, the Middle Ring tentatively joined in.

So, things really got going the third night.

Frankly, Lee had never witnessed such flagrant debauchery in his entire life. Public intoxication laws were thrown from the Walls along with the curfew. Men stumbled through the muddy streets in all levels of drunkenness at all hours of the day. Hookers barely bothered with rooms anymore. Women fled to the temples, asking blessings—and forgiveness—for their family.

It was almost enough to forget the Siege. Almost.

Despite their best attempts, and indeed Xīnyuè Jié was a noble attempt, Lee could not forget the black cloud that was the Fire Nation beyond the Wall. Occasionally, they made their presence known, throwing boulders from their massive trebuchets. The Earth Kingdom responded in kind, hurling their own boulders into the Fire Nation camp or sending shock troops to nip their flanks. Lee only heard of the latter through heralds and the state-run newspapers. For the most part though, life went on. They watered their milk and complained about their military assignments, but they made do. The Earth Kingdom endured.

Now though, the cracks were beginning to show.

The crowds pressed in on food vendors. They became more agitated day by day. Before, the people seemed resigned; now, fights were common and Lee heard rumors of looting in the other districts. Grumbling about the military's complacency grew bolder. The greatest mark of change were the Dai Li who frequently prowled the streets. In the past few months, their numbers had grown significantly. People whispered of friends and neighbors who had disappeared, snatched from their homes in the middle of the night.

Cheng thought it was all a bunch of bull, state propaganda to keep everyone inside after curfew. Lee wanted to believe him, but he wasn't so sure.

"Your pops know you're here?" Cheng asked, passing the drink to Lee—a bottle of 64 Lùshuǐ. Lee knew nothing about liquor, but enough that some merchant was pulling his hair out trying to find the missing bottle. Lùshuǐ was _expensive_. You could buy a bucket of gold for less. They would've sold it if they could convince a merchant that they just happened upon it legally.

"Nope." Lee took a long drink. He was used to drinking whatever the change in his pocket could buy. Honestly, he couldn't tell the difference. His head felt lighter. "He'll probably roast me alive when I get back."

Not that Lee cared. He absolutely did not care.

"What is it with you guys? Every time I see you these days you're storming out of your apartment."

"Trouble with the old man?" asked Fen, reaching for the bottle. Lee let him have it.

"It's nothing."

"Look I don't want to pry…"

"Then don't."

They sat on the roof of the monorail station to watch the parade and fireworks. Fen wore a threadbare coat over his usual sleeveless shirt, the only one he owned. It did almost nothing against the chilling wind. The air held a frosty edge tonight. Even Lee and Cheng were shivering and covered in goose bumps. Down below, buildings held off the worst of the wind and the warmth of so many bodies kept the crowd comfortable.

"You good to keep running jobs?" Fen asked.

Lee watched the sun impassively sink below the Wall. "Don't see why not. Unless he tries to lock me up." He wrinkled his nose at the thought. His legs were going to sleep so he shifted his weight. "Why? Something coming up."

Fen stretched and yawned. "Maybe. Not sure yet."

"Heard there's tons of food in the Upper Rings," said Magpie, formerly known to Lee as Mohawk. His dark irises gleamed. "Heard they're hoarding it all. They're keeping all the good stuff for themselves while they let us starve down here."

"Probably," Deshi yawned.

"And what? You're okay with that?"

Deshi peered at Magpie through heavy lidded eyes. "Yep."

"So let me get this straight…"

"Here we go," Fen sighed.

"…you're okay with a bunch of gold-shitting _nobles_ letting us starve. They're the ones who abandoned the fields. They're the ones who can't get the Fire Nation off our back—"

"And they're also the ones keeping the Fire Nation from killing us all so shove a bun in it," Deshi said.

"It's just a rumor, anyways," Lee said. A rumor that he believed, in part. But he just felt like disagreeing with Magpie. "No one thinks the Upper Ring is _actually_ hoarding food."

Guo nodded. "Where'd you even hear that from?"

Magpie seemed less confident than a moment ago. "Well, my neighbor said his cousin had…"

"Oh for Spirit's sake!" Deshi moaned.

Cheng nudged Fen for a cigarette. The two lit up and excitedly watched the show. Fen tried to look impassive, but never took his eyes off the argument.

"I'm telling you, the Tip-Tops are holding out on us. It ain't right. It ain't right!"

"What ain't right?" Deshi said. "The part where they defend us? Look I want more food as much as you but that don't mean…"

"They defend us? Is that it? These Walls aren't here to defend us. They're here to keep us from all their silk and gold."

"So what? You're gonna storm the Upper Ring? Knock yourself out."

"Brown-nosing, freckled-faced prick! See how you feel when you're starving!"

"No one's starving," Deshi stared pointedly at Magpie's swollen belly. "Especially not you."

Magpie opened his mouth to respond when the sky cracked and the glow of fireworks illuminated the city.

Colors bloomed between the emerging stars—greens and golds that showered the city with good luck. The crowd below them cheered when the first explosions shocked the night. They added their own noise—drums and flutes, songs and firecrackers meant to wake the great guardian spirits sleeping in the earth to chase off mischievous demons and bring good luck for the year.

Magpie tried to make himself heard, but the others drowned him out, cheering at the sky.

"Will you guys shut it!" Magpie complained. "Seriously! Deshi—"

The others booed and swatted the heavy boy until he finally shut up.

"That one goes to Deshi," Guo laughed.

"Who asked you?" Magpie growled.

Guo held up his hands. A lazy, condescending grin spread across his face. "Give it a rest, Mag-eat-a-dozen-pies."

Magpie jumped to his feet but the others pulled him down. Magpie had some stupid rivalry with Guo that Lee couldn't figure out. Probably because Guo, three years younger than Magpie, had replaced him as the muscle of the group. That was a hard blow to anyone's pride, Lee distantly mused.

Lee settled into watching the festival unfold around him. The bottle made its way into his hand a few times, each time the edges of the world blurred more and he grinned with greater abandon. This felt good. _He_ felt good. This gave him a chance to forget everything happening around him. Things had never been _great_ before the Siege. On some level, deep down, he knew that. But he had learned to accept the weevils in his rice, the lice in his pillow, the city stench, and the companionable ache of hunger.

But the Siege changed all of that.

Lee learned the trick to staying well fed: having low standards. That didn't help when there was no food at all. Lee and his band could swipe enough food from careless merchants because they were ahead of the competition. How long before others turned to stealing? How long before that grew into riots and all out looting?

They joked about who they'd rob in the riots, homes of bullies they would vandalize. They joked about anything they could. But Lee couldn't shake the growing sense of desperation. He couldn't go out alone without someone lashing out against him as a zázhong. The suspicious eyes of guards and strangers frightened him. And now, Fu looked at him with the same suspicion.

Lee watched the crowd and tried to forget about his father. The parade was passing below them, a river of dancers and musicians, massive lion-turtle floats that took five men to hoist through the crowd. Adults rubbed its head for luck while children laughed and darted between its legs. Lee saw a group of Air Monks, their yellow robes easy to spot in the crowd, giving out coin and blessing to those in need. Men offered them donations and they would barely walk ten steps before handing it out to the endless line of desperately poor. Lee even spotted the grey vestments of the Tiáojiě Rén. He didn't know much about their order, just that they usually wandered the countryside, looking for dead to bury. Lee suspected the Siege had trapped them. Just like everyone else.

"Will you look at that?" Cheng said. He peered at a group of soldiers. They were probably supposed to be enforcing curfew, but had gone AWOL to join the festival instead. Their armor got the attention of the local girls who sashayed around them with coy, predatorial smiles. One brave girl leaned in and kissed a young soldier with enough passion to make Cheng blush. "I want his position," Cheng sighed.

"That'll be us in a few years," Guo said.

"Can't wait," Cheng said earnestly. "We'll finally get out of this Spirits-forsaken city, see the countryside," he elbowed Fen playfully in the side, "meet some ladies."

"Already got one," Fen said, winking at Wang, who Lee still thought of as Gap-Tooth. From what Lee heard, Wang's sister had fallen for Fen's willy charms. The sneer on Wang's face was enough to know how he felt about the situation. Lee had little sympathy for the boy. He was still sore from their fight several weeks ago.

"Good thing," Cheng said. "Leave enough for the rest of us."

"Please and thank you," Guo said.

"Not you," Deshi teased. "Country girls like city-boys. Not lumbering oxen."

"Don't know," Guo grinned. "Heard ox riding's a sport out in the country."

Lee spat out his mouthful of whiskey, trying to contain his laughter, if not the liquor. He went in for another drink but Wang tried to snatch it from him.

"That counts as a drink. I'm next!"

Lee held him off, still laughing, as he took another long draw from the bottle. He smacked his lips and gave it to the now pouting Wang.

 _BOOM!_

Lee's stomach dropped, falling the distance to the ground below. Something had suddenly changed in the rhythm of the explosions. Instead of cracking the night, they shattered it. The light became harsher—starker.

 _BOOM!_

The rhythm of the festival stuttered, striking a discordant note. The sounds drowned out what Lee could clearly hear from the rooftop, but those on the ground began to realize something had changed. The parade carried on, captivating those closest to it even as the edges of the crowd began to turn their eyes to the south.

Deshi squinted at the horizon. "Are those…are those fireworks… _falling_?"

Lee followed Deshi's line of sight and saw he was right. Fireworks dipped over the wall, falling into, by Lee's guess, the Southern Slums.

"Roku's balls…" Wang breathed. Horror restricting the curse to a whisper.

Not fireworks, Lee realized—artillery. The Fire Nation was blasting them with artillery. A hellish orange glow began to brighten the southern side of the Wall like an artificial dawn. Screams carried over the sounds of celebration.

Lee watching with horrified fascination as soldiers and guards began to spread the word. The news rippled in from the edges, starting slow. The horns and drum beats, the fireworks still erupting overhead, made the news hard to hear. It was repeated multiple times before each person understood. But fear soon found a foothold. It swelled slowly through the crowd, building momentum like a landslide—knocking stones loose, breaking away ground, until it gathered enough momentum that it swept through the whole crowd. Finally, hysteria overwhelmed the whole mass of them. Most began to flee without even knowing what from. They saw others running for their homes and decided the idea seemed fine enough to follow along.

The parade evaporated in the panicked heat of the mob. Despite the lack of danger so deep within the Ring, performers dropped their costumes, slipping in the mud, pushing each other out the way in their wild run for shelter. The mighty lion-turtles lay trampled in the soggy streets, their bright green and gold now stained with mud. Some musicians clutched their instruments, protective as any mother for her child. Others dropped them on the spot and splashed away.

Lee made out a group of yellow-clad Air Nomads taking to the sky to escape the stampede. With a swell of admiration, Lee realize the monks were flying towards the danger to help in whatever way they could.

Cheng stood. "We gotta get over there."

"Screw that," said Magpie. "What if they send another round over."

Guo was already on his feet too. "Worry about that when we get there."

The others sat, looking uncomfortably between the brothers and each other.

"Are you guys kidding me?" Cheng shouted. "Get off your burning asses!"

"Nothing we can do," said Fen through clenched teeth. He seemed more angry at himself than Cheng. "Someone else will help. Others know what to do."

"Those people need someone!"

Lee knew Cheng was thinking of his brothers the Earth Kingdom had abandoned. It was only a few months ago, but it felt like years to Lee. Of course Cheng and Guo didn't trust their military to help these people. Not after last time.

"If you go," said Wang. "That artillery…it'll spread you across the whole district."

"They have people trained for this," Fen insisted. "We'll just get in the way."

Lee knew the brothers would go. He decided he couldn't stop them and he couldn't let them go alone. He thought of the Earth Kingdom, sitting back to save its own skin. Would these people die the same way as those farmers? Trapped and seared alive as they waited for a rescue that wasn't coming.

Spirits, thought Lee, Fu is going to kill me.

He rose, teetering under the alcohol's influence.

"You wanna be a hero?" Fen said. "Heroes are always the first to die."

Lee held his eyes for a long moment. Then he turned and, together with the brothers, raced across the rooftops.

* * *

 _Fire Nation Camp_

Lu Ten watched the artillery disappear behind the Outer Wall and felt his stomach plunging with them.

He had just returned from ghoul watch and was heading for the officer's club—little more than a tent they had designated for drinking—when the first wave let fly. He tried to keep his own feelings in check. Fire Nation doctrine called for intense aggression. The faster the Fire Nation scared the enemy into surrender, the less lives were lost overall. A quick war was the only humane one.

The philosophy was sound, but it didn't stop Lu Ten from thinking of the helpless civilians dying as fireballs crushed them. It didn't ease the thoughts of Dragon Fire burning them alive.

A beefy arm, which could easily belong to a sabre-moose, pulled aside the tent flap of the officer's club. A muscled shoulder and neck followed with a cinder block of a face not far behind.

"Roku's balls. Would you look at that?" Second Lieutenant Chit Sang had come for a better look after he heard the artillery launching. Large as a saber-moose and with a temper to match, Sang loved watching things burn almost as much as he liked burning them. With his enviously high birth (he was Lu Ten's fifth cousin or something) the Fire Nation would love him if not for his second son status and tendency to disagree with his officers. Violently.

Chit grinned at Lu Ten and the prince scowled in return. Chit had a savage love for savage things that Lu Ten found distasteful.

"Come on!" Chit complained when he saw the first lieutenant's expression. "Tell me that's not awesome. I mean, look at those things go! Spirits!"

"Oh, it's amazing!" Lu Ten spat. "The way they smoke all those innocent people. I'd love to watch all the children burning."

"Well, not that part," Chit admitted. "I meant the hurdling boulders part! They're like dragons up there!" He called to the city, "How do you like that you Mud Monkey bastards! Ha ha!"

Lu Ten didn't have the stomach for the spectacle. He pushed past Chit and ducked into the drinking tent.

The inside was spacious by field camp standards. It comfortably fit the tent's half dozen occupants, seated on cushions around a low table, with enough room to accommodate the chest of liquor in the back, which served as a substitute for an actual bar. No such luxury this far from friendly territory, if any territory in the Earth Kingdom could rightly be called _friendly_. The chest also deterred the junior enlisted, who were much less likely to make off with their booze when it was locked up instead of laying out on shelves. Because their drinking tent wasn't an officially designated officer's club, the senior officers couldn't get a guard posting for it while they were on duty. Lu Ten and his fellow officers had talked about acquisitioning one of the numerous barns, but that required far too much paperwork. All they wanted was a place to drink in peace.

"First Lieutenant," Ryoichi Shiba snapped to attention when he saw Lu Ten. The other officers simply waved. A few chuckled at Ryoichi's formality.

"At ease," Lu Ten said. Ryoichi was a serious and idealistic man, the kind who obeyed orders on principle. This made him a novelty amongst the new breed. The older officers had bets on who could break him first. They obeyed orders too, of course. They just felt entitled to a fair share of complaining beforehand. While they slacked on grooming standards, Ryoichi maintained his impeccably, to the point of scrutiny. It seemed unnatural how well-groomed he managed to keep himself even with supply shortages and the chaos of combat.

Lu Ten liked Ryoichi but the other officers thought of him as a kiss-ass trying for a promotion. Lu Ten couldn't honestly say the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Ryoichi was born in the colonies but had some distant noble relation that might get a career on track. But then, maybe he truly believed in honor and fidelity and all that. You just couldn't tell with Ryoichi.

"Sir, you see where Chit went?" Yuudai asked.

"Just admiring the carnage," Lu Ten said. He couldn't wait to get a drink and get his mind off it all. The distant thunder of artillery echoed.

"Not much to admire, sir," Yuudai noted. "Can't see anything past that muddy Wall."

They had all been admiring the fireworks but those had stopped with the artillery strike. After that, they'd gone inside to find other entertainment—presumably at the bottom of a bottle.

"I wanna see the Dragon Fire go over!" Takeshi said, rushing out with the giddiness of a schoolboy at his first Fire Lord Festival. He loved burning things as much as Sang, but only with the naïve fascination of a child.

Ryoichi rose from his cushion and straightened his uniform before going to their liquor stash. "What do you want, sir?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Rice wine," Lu Ten said. He undid the straps of his shoulder armor, slipping it over his head. He set it by a cushion. "Whatever's strongest."

Ryoichi gave a hint of a smile. He opened the chest and began to rummage around. "Uh…we got some Minoru…some Watatari…"

"Got any Tama?"

"Uh…don't see any. How about Shiying?" he asked, holding a bottle of it up for the lieutenant.

"Shiying is fine." Lu Ten settled on cushion. He took off his helmet and placed it to the side. He stretched his leg, trying to relieve the ache in his right knee. He had a vague memory of injuring it a few years back but couldn't remember how. Lu Ten wished for the hundredth time that firebenders could heal.

Ryoichi brought him the bottle and Lu Ten warmed it with firebending. He pulled off the cork and took a long, satisfied drink. Yuudai passed him a cigarette, which Lu Ten lit with a small flame dancing off his thumb—a trick requiring too much precision to be practical. Lu Ten just liked to show off sometimes.

With a smoke in one hand and a drink in the other, Lu Ten could final relax.

"How was…what did they have you on? Ghoul duty?" asked Yuudai.

"Ghoul duty," Lu Ten confirmed.

Yuudai shuddered and even Ryoichi offered a rare look of sympathy. Ghoul duty was just one of those things you learned to suck up and do without too much grumbling. Everyone hated it. Ghouls bred like flies during times of war. They smelled rancid and looked like a "mole-bat face-fucked a corpse," according to Chit. They roamed the countryside in packs, their numbers swelling because of the war. They rarely bothered armies on the move but were known to attack field camps.

There was also the fact that ghoul duty was an _out of the way_ duty.

Chit wandered back in with Takeshi, chatting excitedly.

"You see that Dragon Fire go over," Chit jabbered to the younger officer. "I bet we're smoking those Mud Monkeys."

Takeshi laughed. "We should have a roast out later."

Lu Ten looked at Yuudai. His square jaw rolled as if chewing something bitter. He squinted at Chit. Too late, Lu Ten realized the man was looking for a fight.

"What do you think we're hitting?" Yuudai asked the question to no one in particular, but somehow managed to aim it at Chit Wang.

"Mud Monkeys. Weren't you listening?" Chit said dismissively.

"Oh right! Mud Monkeys! Say, what were you before this? A royal scholar, right?"

Chit's face went hard. "Funny. A real comedian, you are."

Takeshi looked blankly between the standoff while Ryoichi lit another cigarette. He took a draw and watched Lu Ten, ready to back him up if he decided to get in the middle.

"I _meant_ —I'll try to use small words for you—what structures are we hitting? What do you think? Barracks? A garrison? A _school_?"

Chit stepped closed to Yuudai, flexing his barreled chest and generally trying to look menacing. Yuudai pushed off the ground and stuck his face right up under Chit's nose, refusing to be intimidated. Lu Ten tensed himself to hold Chit back if he got rough. Right now, they were just blowing smoke. He shook his head at Ryoichi, a slight move to let him know everything was under control.

"You think you're funny? You wanna step outside, you ink-sipping, squint-eyed puddle of piss-mud?"

"You want to know what I want? I want you to answer the question. What do you think we're hitting? Who are we killing out there?"

"If those Mud Monkeys didn't want to get smoked they should've surrendered," Chit said.

"You didn't answer my question," Yuudai said.

"Fact is," Ryoichi broke in, "the General decided that Ba Sing Se needed some encouragement to surrender. If a few burnt homes gets their cooperation, it's better than a whole city starving."

Yuudai didn't look away from Chit. He breathed hard. Then he nodded, a grudging jerk of the head, and backed off. Chit snorted with contempt.

"Took them long enough, if you ask me," Chit said despite no one asking him. "Been here—what? Four—five months now? We've had the artillery up since day one and we're just _now_ smoking them? In what world does that make any muddy sense?"

"Well…" Takeshi scanned the faces of his squad. He fidgeted with uncharacteristic reservation. "You know…the General…"

The men tensed. Even their local psychopath seemed to know when he was toeing the line. And questioning the Dragon placed a foot well over that line. They considered other officers fair game for critiquing and questioning, if they kept it discreet. Everyone knew the General didn't like to get his hands dirty and everyone had their own opinion. Some admired him for it, calling him a man of principle and honor. Others had less charitable thoughts.

All eyes turned to Lu Ten. They all liked the Dragon's son, but no one would say a word against the military staff in front of him.

The prince raised his hands helplessly. His cigarette dangled between his fingers. "Ryoichi's right. The General decided it was time for artillery, so artillery it is. We've had a pretty clean campaign so far. Maybe the staff just decided to step it up." That was the most neutral response he could give. Honor demanded he keep the rest of his thoughts to himself.

"And look where that got us, sir," Chit protested. Obviously. He didn't have the same sense of honor. "We'd be home by now if command was willing to rough up the Mud Monkeys a bit more."

"Fuck that," Takeshi said. "I haven't gotten to kill anything yet."

Yuudai started to argue when the head of Yokota Toki popped through the tent flap.

"Hello, boys." He grinned and poked his hands through the entrance. In each one he carried a dark, ruby-colored bottle. "I come bearing gifts." The men's eyes fixed on the bottle like shirshu on a scent. Yokota gave it a shake and its contents slapped against the glass. "Happy New Year."

The men had christened Yokota as "Joker" for his humor and permanently carefree demeanor. Only the other officers called him that. To his face, at least. He was well liked by the men beneath him and the other officers shared the sentiment. In a military based on fierce discipline and fiercer tactics, Yokota believed what was good for morale was good for the army and thus good for the Fire Nation. And in his experience, alcohol was magnificent for morale.

He handed the bottle to an awestruck Yuudai. He read the label and whistled through his teeth. "Kyoshi's tits," he swore. He held up the bottle for the other men to see. "Honest-to-Agni Hiroki Firewhiskey. You can't get this stuff anywhere east of the Jǐzhù."

"How in twelve hells did you get us a bottle of Hiroki?" Lu Ten asked and took the bottle.

"You can thank the Captain for that. Had to trade him a month's worth of cigarettes but I'd say it's worth it. I'll just bum some off you lecherous, gold-leafed inbreds."

"Is he talking about us?" Yuudai deadpanned. He asked Ryoichi, "He knows he's a noble too, right?"

"I'm from the colonies," Takeshi said. "We don't have gold leaf."

"No," Yuudai agreed. "You just have a bunch of mud-skinned, snot-eyed, mongrels who leech the wealth of our nation to support their backwater, dirt-humping lifestyle."

Takeshi thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess we do have some of those."

Yuudai grinned and seized the young officer. "This is what I love about our little Takeshi." He put an arm over the youth's shoulder and presented him to the rest of the men. "You could call his mother, Agni bless her, a monkey-humping harlot and Takeshi here takes it like a man." Yuudai started giving him a nuggie. "We'll make a General out of you yet, you little psychopath."

While Takeshi pushed the older man off, Lu Ten leaned over to Yokota. ""I'll pay you back," he promised.

"No you won't," Yokota said with mock seriousness. He pointed a stern finger at the prince. "I like the future Fire Lord owing me some favors."

"Joker, I could kiss you," Yuudai said, taking the bottle.

" _You_ are ugly. I want Charming."

Ryoichi chuckled. Only Yokota could get one out of him. "Get in line."

"You aren't Charming's type," Lu Ten informed him.

"What's his type?"

"Earth Kingdom country girls," Lu Ten grinned. Ryoichi's smile became more self-conscious and his face might've darkened in the dim light.

"She was…nice," he said simply.

Yokota feigned bewilderment. "Are you saying my sweet, disciplined Ryoichi gave his honor away to some black-nailed _Mud Monkey_." He put both hands on Ryoichi's shoulders and stared him intently the eyes, struggling to keep a straight face. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know," Takeshi said. "They don't really do it for me. They're kind of…I don't know…prude. You know?"

"Nah, man" Chit said. "They just wear more clothes cause it's not hotter than a dragon's ass-crack all the time."

The men mumbled in agreement, the previous hostility mostly forgotten, replaced with the usual back and forth of playful insults.

Yokota nudged Lu Ten. "You got a moment?" he whispered.

The prince nodded and the two went outside while the others began filling up glasses. The air was cool and smelled of smoke, which drifted in heavy clouds from the burning city. He could still hear the distant booms of falling artillery.

Lu Ten crossed his arms. "What's up?"

Yokota scrubbed at his face and wouldn't meet Lu Ten's eyes. They had grown up in the Royal Fire Academy together but Yokota never forgot that Lu Ten was royalty. He never knew what might set them off. Say one word wrong and, next thing you know, you're committing ritual suicide with the Dragon of the West breathing down your neck.

"Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't so important to the company. But uh…look…I heard some rumors that you and…the General got into it." He saw Lu Ten's fists clench and rushed on. "And everyone's noticed that you've been given shit assignments lately and…just tell me, sir," Yokota never called Lu Ten _sir_ , "are we about to roll the Bloody Dice again?"

Lu Ten immediately understood Yokota's fear. 'Rolling the Bloody Dice' was a soldier's term. In a military that promoted largely on one's nobility, the spectrum of competence for any given position was terrifyingly wide. The higher the birth, the higher a man could—and often, _would_ —rise through the military ranks. That man might be the greatest military commander since Masaaki the Exalted, or a disgraced third-born son who couldn't find his ass if he sat on it.

Lu Ten gave Yokota a sympathetic smile to set him at ease. He understood his friend's concern. The Ninety Fourth hadn't had much luck with their Captains as of late.

Their first company commander after basic was a man named Bando. He had clearly daydreamed his way through officer academy, drifting along on his impressively royal blood (twenty-third in line for the throne). He never stopped talking about the glory of war, the tragedy of the soldier, and shit himself the first time they made contact with the enemy. He talked loudly, as if that made the content of his speech more impressive, and drank a section's worth of whiskey a night, which he stored in his impressively supple belly. He endeared himself to his soldiers by dying quickly in an Earth Kingdom ambush.

Their next commander, they called Gato the Yawner, which summed him up nicely. One soldier even stopped using his mosquito net because he said Gato would catch them all in his mouth anyways. That soldier got malaria. He survived and deemed it worth the joke. Gato seemed profoundly bored with the whole thing until they took the port town of Jeonju. He shit the bed, was relieved of command, and, because he blamed his junior officers and had some connection with the Royal Family, got a promotion rather than death by ritual suicide. Thus, the Ninety Fourth rolled the dice once again.

They thought Agni had decided enough was enough when command made Tatewaki, a grizzled old vet who had lived through the last Southern Offensive, their captain.

"We thought you'd be the one to replace Tatewaki," Yokota said, "and that we might get our asses out of here in one piece. All these shit jobs—we thought the General was testing your _honor_ or—well, you know how the General is." He realized the stupidity of his statement and mentally slapped himself. "I mean. Of course, you do. But then we started hearing the rumors and…well…" He trailed off helplessly, looking to his friend for answers.

"I wish I could tell you some good news," Lu Ten sighed. "I can't say much. The General wants me on another assignment: scouting the mountains when winter ends. I won't be here much longer. I supposed, all these out-of-the-way jobs, the General's trying to get you used to not having me around."

"Shit," Yokota said. Then louder, " _Shit!_ " The young lieutenant composed himself. With a degree of professionalism, he said, "The men are worried, sir. Some say we're cursed. Losing you would be a real hit to the morale."

Lu Ten grinned and swatted Yokota on the shoulder. "That's why they've got you, Joker."

The screech of metal against metal echoed across the camp and another wave of fire flew towards the city. They streaked through the night and disappeared. Yokota watched them fall.

"What're we here for?" he'd asked. He'd said this much without Lu Ten ordering his execution. His eyes flickered restlessly. "What're we here for?"

Lu Ten followed his gaze to the Wall. He couldn't condemn Yokota. A few years ago, he might've. But his time in the army, working his way up from the bottom, had changed him. Maybe teaching him humility had been a mistake on his father's part. Now, he asked himself the same questions. It would be so easy to indulge them.

"We're here to liberate these people," Lu Ten said tightly.

"We aren't liberating them." All humor had gone from Yokota's face. His voice choked in his throat, rough and bitter. He turned to Lu Ten. "We're killing them. Do they even want us here?"

A group of soldiers passed then, joking and shivering. Their laughter faded as the moved on.

Lu Ten had to end this conversation. Personal feelings couldn't get in the way of his duty. Dissent spread like plague; it turned into rebellion and rebellion into chaos. Honorable soldiers turned into bandits and rapists because their officers tolerated insubordination. Lu Ten was duty bound to keep that from happening in his own company.

"They're living under a tyrant, Lieutenant," he said with a harshly. "Their heads are so fucked around they don't know what they want. Once we win the War, things will get better."

Yokota didn't seem able to stop himself. Something had broken or slipped in him. Good humor gave way to the frustration that smoldered inside. "Sir, I don't think they care about that. I think they want to get on with their muddy lives without fire _splattering_ their children across the street. We are _marching_ through here and tearing things apart for these people, sir. What happens when we win?"

Yokota's words made Lu Ten more afraid than angry. Yokota had spoken treason. Or close to it. Any more, and Lu Ten would be bound by duty to see his friend strung from the watchtower. This needed to end. Now.

The prince lunged for Yokota. His hand burned as it struck his friend across the face, tearing across the cheek and catching his nose. He filled his first with the collar of Yokota's uniform, yanking him to his feet as he began to stumble. Lu Ten jerked him forward so their noses nearly touched. "Lieutenant Yokota, I'm going to say this once: shut the fuck up and keep your muddy thoughts to yourself." Yokota looked like a child, shocked by Lu Ten's sudden fury. His mouth worked helplessly to apologize. Lu Ten didn't care. "We are here to do a fucking job. General Miyamoto wants this city, so we will _take_ this city." Yokota tried to pull away but Lu Ten held him fast. "Their reasons are none of your business."

Then he strode away before he could see the betrayal in Yokota's eyes. He was too sick for a drink now. In the distance, the artillery shrieked.

* * *

 _The Southern Slums, Lower Ring, Ba Sing Se_

As a young girl, the elders taught Akanna that Naninnak was a place of torment and fire. As she came of age, she heard other, older stories of a frozen waste where souls wandered, seeking purification before passing on to the Lap of Twi. Akanna was no scholar and, in the North, the elders barred women from certain knowledge anyways. She suspected it was easier for the elders to cast the Fire Nation as the villain if they embodied of hell itself.

Her mother steeped her childhood in stories of Naninnak, told with a barely concealed smile to an obstinate child. The old fear returned whenever she saw the work of the War. Watching the Southern Slums, she was suddenly a child again, counting her good deeds and hoping they were enough to save her.

Naninnak wasn't a story anymore.

It was in the Slums looming before her, terrifying and more real than the breath in her lungs—breath that burned with smoke and ash. Akanna thought that years of smoking would condition her lungs. She was wrong. A brown haze obscured everything more than several feet ahead of her; it burned her lungs and clogged her nose. Hot ash stung her skin like splashes of cooking fat popping from a fire pan. The smoke left a dark, oily coat on her skin.

Akanna knew all about Fire Nation siege tactics from personal experience. First, came the flaming boulders of coal, designed to destroy structures and drive people into the streets. Then came the Dragon Fire—an oily, flammable substance that water couldn't extinguish. Dragon Fire was too dangerous to light in advance, but when it landed and caught on the flame of the artillery, the two-part attack could reduce whole cities to ash.

Stone made up most of the Slums, exactly to prevent such fires. But enough refugees threw together shelters of wood scraps and oiled cloth—anything that kept the mud from their beds and the rain off their backs—that they burned now with the fury of a dragon.

Akanna moved quickly with her response team: herself, several soldiers, and an earthbender who carried a massive stone jar filled with water.

"Here," said Akanna. She could not guess what the structure might have been. It lay in skeletal ruins now, spewing black smoke and the bright red flames of Dragon Fire.

"Here?" asked Corporal Lok. The earthbender looked at the blaze. "This place is torched."

"Only the front," she insisted.

"The sowán is near the entrance," a soldier said, pointing to the boulder lying a few yards beyond the door frame. "The Dragon Piss overshot. Might be survivors in the back."

Lok grumbled, but immediately worked to move the _sowán_ from the building. Akanna knew he was a good soldier, he just sulked whenever his pride was wounded. He hated looking foolish in front of others. Almost as much as he hated the Fire Nation.

With the boulder gone, Akanna dipped her mind into Tagiuk Uuman, the Ocean's Heart. As her consciousness grew, it touched the water around her, feeling its swirling energy—an extension of the energy within herself. She moved her body with the flow, entering into and guiding it. She lifted it into the air, matching its rhythm, then sent it to douse whatever flames she could.

Lok worked to bury the Dragon Fire that, thank the Spirits, had mostly fallen in the streets. Without air, the fire hissed and died, leaving behind smoking piles of dirt. All the while, he called profanity at the Fire Nation.

Akanna worked her way into the building, the soldiers close behind. She looked around and realized it was a living space. Few such places existed formally in the Slums. Mostly, the refugees piled upon each other and shoved themselves into any habitable space. What some might call apartments or a townhouse could stretch for blocks, interspersed with common rooms, vending stalls, and play yards.

By Akanna's best guess, the sowán had struck a common room. Fire ate the furniture, chewing the cloth and stuffing. A few pictures burned, too blackened to tell what they might've been. A shrine to Kyoshi lay toppled, incense spilled over the floor. Most of the damage came from the impact. Akanna avoided looking at the body the fireball had struck when it plowed through the ceiling. Even if they had survived the blow, they'd been burning for some time. A few bodies lay against the walls, clearly thrown by the force of the impact. Akanna continued dousing fires as the soldiers checked them.

"Look at her side. She's been dead for a while."

"The two males?"

"No good."

"What a mess."

"Piss-eyed bastards."

She moved deeper into the structure and found she was right. The blast had left the interior mostly intact. She heard baby crying. Leaving the flames behind, the building became dark. Sickly orange light pierced the cracks of the cobbled-together dwelling. Smoke hung from the air but didn't threaten to suffocate anyone. She moved cautiously through the dark, following the baby's sound. She drew a ghost-light from her pack and the room filled with the crystal's strange, green glow. She imagined the people inside were terrified. And fear made fools.

"Is anyone here?" she called. Perhaps they would trust that the Fire Nation didn't know Qinese. "You're safe now. I'm a healer. Is anyone injured? I can help."

Something muffled the sound of crying.

"You don't need to worry…" Akanna stepped into a room and saw several families huddling against the edges. Even in the pale, green light, they could see Akanna was of the Tribes and visibly relaxed. A mother had a child pressed against her breast, trying to nurse it into silence. Her arms shook.

"Please," said a boy. "Please. My mother. She isn't here. Please…"

He spoke a southern dialect but Akanna could not place the region. He had traveled far. Akanna thought of the bodies she had seen coming in.

"Where's your father?" she asked.

"Please," a man said. He had a long face and thin mustache. "We can talk when we're safe. Are we safe?"

Akanna assured them they were. She wanted to move this group along so she could check the rest of the complex, but decided it was best to give her team time to clear the bodies. She decided they would all be better off if they didn't see that mess.

"A group of us were traveling up through the Si Wong trying to get here," the mustached man informed her. "A swarm of buzzard-wasps attacked. Peng's father got stung."

The boy, Peng, ducked his eyes and returned to the ground. He didn't look older than fifteen.

"Why were you traveling through the Si Wong?" she asked the man.

"No choice. We're from Swi Kong. We thought Omashu would take us in. But their burning king kicked us out…"

"Qigang," said a woman reproachfully. Akanna assumed she was his wife. She had the air of authority about her and even the dim could not hide Qigang's blush. She seemed remarkably calm given the situation. "The King gave us food and a few days rest," she told Akanna, "but there was no room. Anyone could see that," she gave her husband a pointed look, "King Bumi (Spirits smile on him) sent a soldier to help us on our way. The king is a kind man. A good man."

"He could have given us a ship," Qigang grumbled.

"Hush," the woman said. "We made through the Jade but had to turn east when we ran into the Fire Nation. That's when the buzzard-wasps attacked. Peng's father…we all know a sting is fatal. He volunteered to stay behind. Give us time while they…Pang was a good man. A good man."

Peng had begun to cry softly.

A soldier arrived and informed Akanna, with a significant look at the refugees, that the entrance was cleared of _all_ debris. Akanna and her team searched the rest of the complex. In all, they found another three hundred refugees. She tried to find the families of the dead but, after asking around, she learned that twenty-four people were missing, not half a dozen. The few from the entrance could have belonged to any of them.

"Back to work, then," said Akanna. A soldier offered her a cigarette. Spirits, she wanted it but Lok looked like he might be sick. "Give it to the corporal. He looks like he needs it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the earthbender asked.

"It means you're sulking."

"Lok's always sulking," someone chimed in.

"Burn you all!" Lok said, but took the cigarette. He leaned over a sowán, dangling it from his lips, trying to light it over the smoldering boulder. Successful, he took a deep breath.

They set to the grimy work of rescuing civilians and the hours slipped away monotonously. They found only two other structures that night with survivors. The Dragon Fire saw to the rest. Akanna could not imagine that Naninnak was worse than this. She found some comfort in that.

Most of the fire had come under control by the time dawn greyed the sky. Mostly, because anything that could burn had. Dragon Fire hit hard and fast and usually burned itself out in a few hours. Akanna blinked the sting from her eyes. The smog had turned her smoker's cough into a hack that she knew would dog her for days. Her body ached and her head felt like someone had stuffed it with live coals. Too much bending in a short time always left her with a migraine. The pain of a hundred previously unnoticed burns began to complain. All in all, Akanna had little to complain about. The Slums had fared worse.

The assault left it devastated, turned it into miles of waste. Blackened heaps of rubble and cinders lay where buildings once stood. Beds and portraits, personal shrines and broken pottery, jutted from the smoldering hills. The morning fog was dirty with smoke. Crumbled walls rose like tombstones. The skeletal hands of steel supports stretched from the earth. Some of the litter looked disturbingly like the charred remains of bodies.

Refugees wandered through the rubble, shadows against the smog. Most picked through the hot ashes hoping to salvage something – anything. Some shuffled around, listless and unseeing. A man sat and wept. A brother rocked his crying sister in the hollow remains of their home. A mother dug through the ashes calling a name. When Akanna pulled her away, her hands were burned almost to the bone. She handed her off to a healer.

Several elders already worked to clear away the dǎogào huāyuán, patches of raw earth where prayers were buried. Refugees began to congregate on the small gardens. Akanna watched as they dug small holes to place their offerings. A musician played a solemn tune on his pipa. He still wore a green and gold costume. Akanna nearly forgot the city had been in the throws of a festival only hours before.

"We need to make sure someone's watching those," Akanna pointed at the smoke that drifted from the broken homes. "Those can flare up again. I saw a whole village go like that once."

"I can inform Lieutenant Deshi, my lady," said a soldier. Akanna nodded and he ran off. Lieutenant Deshi had a million other problems to sort out, but she trusted him to get someone on the job.

"What now?" Lok asked. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips.

"Let's get back to command. They'll know." She glanced at the corporal. "You going to light that?"

"I'd rather chew it." He fidgeted a bit then said, "I've had enough smoke for the night, ma'am."

"What's going on there?" a soldier asked. He nodded at a crowd forming outside a large building that stuck out from the smaller structures surrounding it. Akanna heard sounds of a fight, but couldn't see any.

Her team made their way to the crowd. Akanna began to make out the building through the haze. It had partially collapsed. From the damage, it looked like the _sowán_ had hit it from an angle. The roof had caved, along with the left and front walls of the second story. It looked like the first story roof might have as well. Oily smoke leaked from every opening in the building. Someone had put out the worst fire—or the fire had simply exhausted its fuel—but now a brawl had started in the street before the building. Most of the crowd stood watching but some men were wrestling on the—no, they weren't wrestling. Several men struggled wildly to run back into the building while others, sometimes three or four, held them back.

"What's going on?" she asked a man. He shrugged and went back to watching the fight. She pushed past him and found someone else. He didn't know anything either. She got lucky the third time.

"Children in there," the man said. "Lots of them. Some kind of shelter? I don't know."

In the Tagiuk Uuman, fear and pity could not touch Akanna. Her mind was clean and focused as a blade. If not, the dread that loomed in the deep of the Ocean's Heart might have overwhelmed her—sent her diving into the ruined building like the others.

In that moment, she decided, when this was all done, to get plastered.

"What's the problem?" She ignored the leviathan lurking in the depths. She needed to act quickly, but rashness could mean disaster. The first thing she learned as a healer was that thoughtless action was usually worse than no action. She needed to stay calm and _fucking_ breath.

"Whole thing's unstable. Could come down any minute."

That didn't help Akanna with the issue of breathing.

"Why hasn't it been put out yet?"

"Children in there. Lots of 'em. We had a team handling it but they said the building would come down if they tried anything. Worse than doing nothing, they said. Then they moved on."

"Can we put it out?"

"Full of Dragon's Piss. The sowán just grazed the building," he grimaced at the damage a 'grazing' had caused, "but it got nailed by a pot of the bad stuff. Course it had to be an orphan shelter. Burning piss-eyed whoresons." He spat.

Cold dread threatened Akanna's calm. She knew the answer but she asked anyway. "Couldn't earthbenders create supports, keep it from collapsing?"

The man shook his head. "You ever seen earthbending?" He glanced at Lok and noticed for the first time the belt that marked the corporal as a bender. "No offense," he said quickly, "but the tremors would bring the whole thing down. A Master might have enough precision but…"

Akanna's thought quickly as she dared. Ice could support the structure enough for Lok to bend safely, but the Dragon Fire burned too hot. It would burn away the ice the moment it formed. Honestly, it was a spirits-given miracle the children hadn't burned to death yet.

Suddenly, with a terrible groan, the building caved in on itself. A mass of sparks rushed from the ceiling. Flame and oily smoke spewed from the windows. The crowd reeled back, screaming. As the building fell, a group of men lost their grip on their buddy who ran into the heaving structure. They reached for him, caught his sleeve, but he tore free from their grip and disappeared beyond the entrance. He had run three paces when the ceiling came down and Akanna lost sight of him in the black smoke the belched out.

The roar of flames smothered the children's screams. A small mercy.

Akanna knew no one had survived. She knew it was hopeless

But she took a step forward.

Then another.

"Get me barrels of water," she commanded to anyone who could hear. "As many as you can get." No one moved or said anything. She reeled on them, " _Now_!"

A few men took off.

"Lok. With me."

The young corporal appeared at her side. His lips pulled back from snarling teeth. His eyes never wavered from the blaze.

"Can you do it?"

He nodded tightly.

"Are there any more earthbenders?"

Two men raised their hands.

"With me. Put out the Dragon's Fire."

"How do we know which is which?"

"If it's still burning in ten seconds, it's Dragon's Fire."

"We were ordered not to go in," the other said.

"Yeah? And I was ordered not to freeze your balls off, but I guess we're all a little insubordinate today."

She turned once again to the blaze.

And began to bend.

She became a monsoon; she struck the fire with the precision of a healer. That's what this was. Healing. The building was a patient wracked with disease and she would scrape off every speck of decay. She doused the flame that hadn't caught on Dragon Fire. She could feel Lok behind her and didn't check to see if the others had followed, but the oily flames hissed and popped as earth starved them of air.

Akanna slipped into the Abyss of La, the deepest state of consciousness a waterbender could master. It came with difficulty, the new moon seemed to hold it from her, but she finally settled into the quiet crystalline depths. The world became quiet, not an emptiness but a depth so heavy with purpose that it drew the outside world into itself and silenced it. Her waking mind pooled around her, filled the room with an awareness that touched every drop of water, every vapor, every speck. They sang to her in the ebbing voice of a still sea on a cloudless night. Her body moved in a symphony with it, the harmony then melody of their great song, composing and conducting it. She pulled as they pulled her, gathered every drop to her, no matter how scattered by flame, and their song became pillars of ice that pushed back against the fallen ceiling. The flames screamed discordance but she matched them, conducted them, added their own notes to hers and soothed them until they grew silent.

She sang for the better part of an hour, each turn of her waist and arch of her wrist building it note by note. She sang as the fire fled from the building. She sang as the sun crested the Wall.

Her song came to an end. The final note hummed in the air. Akanna collapsed and her mind rose from the Abyss of La, gasping for breath.

Ice webbed through the building, stitching it together. Despite the heat, the ice would hold for an hour at least. Her work wasn't perfect, but they were no longer in danger of the building crushing them. She became aware of the earthbenders adding pillars of stone to hers of ice. Lok directed them, showing them the safest way. The building trembled but held and became stronger with each additional support.

Rescuers and soldiers streamed into the building. They searched the rooms for survivors. They found nearly a hundred bodies, including the man who had run in when the building collapsed. Only six children still drew breath. One died shortly after they found her.

* * *

 _A field clinic in the Straights, Lower Ring, Ba Sing Se_

The cots were placed in rows but the sheer number of people that rushed through the clinic, that were heaped on beds or the ground when no beds remained caused the chaos to overflow the neat arrangement as a river of healers and assistants rushed through the long rows. Their uniforms—blue and white—reminded Jin of paintings she'd seen of the the Huān River during the spring thaw, all crashing water and frothing rapids. She watched from the clinic's entrance and feared she would drown if she went in.

Torches filled the room with suffocating heat. The luminous crystals that abounded throughout the city didn't give enough light for the delicate task of healing. The healers just had to put up with the nuisance—a nuisance that compounded the already claustrophobic air of the clinic.

"We have to go in there?" Lee said from her side.

Lee. This was his fault. A few hours ago, she was at home, asleep. Then Lee had pulled her from bed and, with less than a minute to dress herself, dragged her across the entire city while the world burned around her. Her mother wasn't particularly pleased with the situation, but Jin had a duty and the clinic was far enough from the Wall that the artillery couldn't touch them. No sense in a clinic if one fireball would kill them all. Jin had to lie about a possible fine for dereliction of duty before her mother let her go. She wasn't even sure Fu knew that Lee had gone, but that was his business.

"Jin? Are we seriously going in there?"

"Yep."

Lee looked uncertain and pale—paler than usual. If she knew the golden-eyed boy, he probably imagined they would arrive at the Slums and dash into the fray to pull victims from the ruin. Lee was no fantastic hero—he always hated the idea of them. But something had left him restless and aching lately, something beside the siege. He wouldn't tell her what it was. She knew he would eventually, but she also knew that when his feelings festered long enough, he acted like a brain-burned moron and ran into situations without thinking.

Like now.

When Jin arrived at the Slums, following Lee's warpath with Cheng and Guo, they were immediately turned away. Letting kids run into collapsing building could only make the situation worse, the soldier had said. He had changed his tune a bit when he learned that Guo could earthbend and assigned him to moving massive stone vats of water for the teams of waterbenders. Cheng startled the young private, raising _diyu_ about he and Guo being a package deal and neither went anywhere without the other and if he didn't like it they could just deal with having one less earthbender and…the helpless soldier finally decided it wasn't worth the trouble of keeping Cheng from the action. It's on your head if you die, the soldier said, but the little girl and _zázhong_ absolutely weren't allowed into the red zone. Lee almost tore the man's head off and Jin almost helped.

Which was how they found themselves at the clinic. Lee seemed ready to risk his life in a collapsing city, but didn't know what to do about a clinic.

"I'm no healer," Lee protested.

"Neither am I."

"You're an assistant!"

"We all have to start somewhere."

"I'll find something else to do maybe I can…"

"We're staying together."

"I'm useless here!"

"And I'm saying you're not!"

"You have training! Practice! I've never…"

Jin didn't have time for this. She rounded on him with the fury of a saber-hawk. "Can you hold a bandage in place? Can you hand me shit when I tell you? Can you prove for once that you have some Spirits-given common sense?"

Lee was startled into a vigorous nod.

Jin felt a twinge of sympathy. Lee was doing well, given the circumstances. He hadn't even retched, after all. But the whole situation was stressful and she was terrified and furious. So she only felt a little guilty when she told Lee, "Are you gonna grow a pair and come with me or stand here in everyone's way?"

Jin knew she'd gotten to him when his nostrils flared. They always did when he was angry; and right now, angry was better than scared.

He stood a little taller and squared his shoulders. His feet unconsciously shifted to a fighting stance. "I'm with you."

"Good. Just stay with me." She took his hand and his face grew more heated. "Everyone will need help. They'll pull us in a hundred different directions. Don't let them." Impulsively, she wanted to brush the hair from his eyes, but the moment passed. "Stay with me."

Lee swallowed and squeezed her hand. "I will," he managed to say.

She returned the squeeze and held on tight. Setting her jaw and soothing her wild hair, she waded into the dying and frantic mass.

Immediately, bodies began to press against her. The heat of so many people packed together began to choke her. In a minute, sweat had soaked her clothes. She tried to wipe the streams that stung her eyes, but only managed to spread more sweat across her face. She gave up and began to blink rapidly to clear her eyes. She still felt Lee's hand in her own. She turned to check on him when a foreign hand reached through the mob, grabbed her wrist, and roughly pulled her clear of the crowd. Lee held on, but barely.

Jin looked at the healer whose hand still held her wrist. She didn't recognize the woman. She was a healer, by the pale blue uniform she wore. The woman seemed young, maybe a decade older than Jin. No older than thirty. Maybe twenty-five.

She spoke something to Jin in the nasally, pitched language that Jin recognized as Artok. When the woman saw that Jin didn't understand, she switched to the Quinese. "Will you help?"

She spoke excellent common tongue.

When Jin didn't respond, the woman yanked Jin's hands to a red bandage that covered a man's belly.

"Hold" the woman commanded.

Jin moved mechanically, forgetting for a moment about Lee. Without him to focus on, she felt like she'd drifted out to sea. Her was drowning in sleep. If she just swam the right way, she could surface from this nightmare. But one direction blurred into another. After a moment her mind slid into the well-worn grooves left by hours working under Akanna. That helped. Without really thinking, she put pressure on the field dressing. Something soaked her hands.

Oh—right. Blood. That was bad. She pressed harder and the man groaned. She hadn't realized he was conscious. She turned to Lee who stood there like an idiot. She couldn't decide between rolling her eyes and screaming at him.

"Hold this!" she shouted at him. Screaming it was.

Lee jumped like she'd poked him with a hot iron. He rushed to her side and held the bandages that stuffed the bleeding chasm in the man's side. With her hands free, Jin began to look for something to mop up the blood that soaked the exposed torso. She found what she assumed was the man's shirt, cut away for a clear look at the wound, and used it wipe away the blood with little success. The bandage that Lee held was already soaking through and blood seeped out around the edges.

"Artery?" she asked the healer.

The woman looked at her with mild surprise.

"Yes," she said. "Iliac. External."

Jin gritted her teeth and began using her hands to wipe away blood. "How long has he been bleeding?" She scrubbed her hands on her dress (oh well, she needed a new one anyways) and tried to clear away more of the sharply metallic muck. Her hands were stained and sticky.

"Came in a few minutes ago. Don't know how long before that. Okay. Step back."

Lee stumbled away and Jin had to step in to pull the bandages from the cavity. The healer bent water from a nearby basin and plunged it into the wound. Then, before the blood could dilute the water, she froze it. The man convulsed as the water expanded and ice filled the cavity.

"Watch him," the woman said. "We'll need iodine on that or he'll rot. You children ever work an artery wound before?" The woman aimed her skeptical gaze at Lee. Jin responded for both of them with a shake of her head.

"When the ice begins to thaw, put pressure on the wound. If the bleeding stops, I can Heal him." She turned to go then said, "Don't let him fall asleep."

She moved on to another patient and the children were left to tend the man. Children. Jin hated that word but had never felt more out of her depth than that moment. Sometimes she forgot she was thirteen and that most adults considered her young. Most of the time she didn't feel young. Even now she felt something of both—not in between, but both—horribly out of her depth in a world too old for her and somehow apart of that world and its ugliness. She felt like she'd missed something, like she'd fallen asleep in class and woken up lost and confused. She didn't know what she'd missed, only that its loss filled her with a hollow ache.

Though Lee focused all his attention on the patient, Jin could see it in him too—a kind of hardness around the eyes. He weighed the world with a weary cynicism that hadn't existed a year ago. His smile was a little less easy, the light in his eyes a little more dim. Lee had undergone some imperceptible shift that she'd missed day by day, but could see so clearly when she looked back.

In that moment, she wanted very badly to hug him.

He looked at her. For a moment, she thought he'd caught her staring, but he just looked concerned.

"We're not supposed to let him sleep, right?"

"Right."

"Well…" He nodded to man whose eyes sank as he relaxed into sleep.

"Spirits, Lee! Do something!"

Lee began to shake the wounded man harshly. He groaned.

"Not that, you idiot!"

"Well it worked, didn't it?"

"Move! Out of the way! You're gonna kill him if you try to help more." Spirits! Boys were useless!

Jin wondered why the woman didn't just bend the man's blood. She remembered reading that blood was mostly water anyways. Nine parts of ten. Maybe it was too diluted? But she'd seen Akanna bend mud before when they walked through the Lower Ring. She would have to ask.

"Hey. Hey, you've got to stay with me. You can't fall asleep."

"Five minutes." The man's voice came out a thick whisper.

"What's your name? Hey. Come on. What's your name?"

"Chen. Chen Jian."

"Lucky. You have a nice name."

"You…you have…what's yours?"

"Jin."

"Jin. Jin…that's a nice name. Jin."

She laughed. "I don't think so."

"No. No it's a good name."

"I always hated it."

"No. No…it's good."

"Stay with me. You have to stay with me."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know."

"Tell me where you're from. Tell me about your family."

"My family?"

"Yes. Tell me about them."

"My wife. We're going to have a child."

"That's wonderful. What will you name him?"

"Her."

"Sorry?"

"You said him. It's a girl. We haven't decided."

"What about…Chun?"

"Too plain."

"Jia?"

"Everyone and their mother is named Jia." He laughed and winced. "Don't make me laugh."

"Promise to stay awake and I might not," she winked at him.

He laughed again and groaned against the pain. "Not fair, Jin. Jin. I'd like to name her Jin."

Jin felt his side. The ice had begun to thaw and blood was seeping through the dressing. She found some more under the table.

"Where are they? Your family."

"They…they got them rescued…couple hours ago…couldn't…they couldn't…"

"It's okay. I'm here. Will you stay with me?"

"I don't want to die."

"You're not _going_ to die. You're going to live."

"I want to…I never had any sisters, so I always wanted a girl. I wanted her to bring a nice boy home that I could threaten…"

"Your daughter's very lucky," she said. "How do you feel?"

"It doesn't hurt much."

That concerned Jin. The wound in his side was—well, she'd seen worse, but not by much. And she'd seen men die of less severe wounds. If he couldn't feel any pain, that meant shock. She remembered Akanna say that could happen when someone lost too much blood. She scrounged her brain for the solution. She'd only ever worked on burn wounds before. Fluids! He needed fluids. She turned to the chaos around her. A man passed and she grabbed his wrist.

"Water! Do you have water? Any fluids? Do you know where any are?"

The man stared back with bloodshot eyes and shook his head. He pulled his wrist free and disappeared into the throng.

"You have to stay with me. That's it." She turned to Lee who stared at Jian, at the gaping, flowing wound. "Lee!" She wasn't sure if he heard her. "Lee! I have to get him water." She knew there would be a store of water somewhere for the healers, but Jian would bleed out before she found it. "You need to stop the bleeding. Find the artery and put pressure on it."

"You mean..."

"You have to feel around. Inside him."

Lee went pale as Jian at the thought.

"You can do it. You have to."

Lee nodded, quick as a rabbit-cat. He breathed, trying to calm himself like Fu had taught him. His breath rattled through him. Don't think about it, he told himself. Just don't think about it. Lee braced a hand on Jian's chest and plunged his other hand into the wound. He gagged but kept his composure.

"What am I feeling for?"

Jian said, "Sorry. I'm just…"

"Jian. Keep your eyes open." To Lee, "Feel for something—uh—squishy…about the size of your thumb. You'll feel a lot of blood pumping out of it."

He groped around, wrangling his own stomach that lurched at the wet warmth of the man's insides. Jin was pointing to where the artery should be but he couldn't tell one bleeding mass of tissue from another. Everything was hot and gushing and pouring the man's life all over his forearm. He continued to fumble. Blood roared through his ears. He thought he found it. He couldn't get a firm grip. His mind felt far away, like he was looking at the man through a tunnel. The warmth clogged his mouth, his nose, his lungs. The heat suffocated him.

All he could feel was the heat.

The man began to scream.

A long moment of moping blood passed before Jin realized the bleeding had stopped.

"Lee…"

He continued feeling around the man's wound.

"Lee…stop. Lee. He's not bleeding anymore." At first she thought that Chen had died, but his chest rose and fell with heaving breaths. He had lost consciousness, but otherwise had steadied. It looked that way, at least. "Lee… What did you do?"

He pulled away from the man, his arm red to the elbow, his eyes wide and terrified.

Jin checked the wound. It had gone black and tough around the edges, charred like a well-done steak. It still felt hot, hotter than a body should feel. Cauterized.

Jin began to tremble. She looked at Lee and saw him, really _saw_ him for what felt like the first time in her life. She saw his lanky, black hair that fell over ashen skin and golden eyes.

"Lee. What did you do?"

"I don't know." His eyes were wide and haunted. He looked between Jin and the wound. "I don't know."

* * *

 **A/N:** So this chapter took forever. I had 90% of it done, then my hard drive crashed so that was fun. Then, when I rewrote it, something didn't save right and I lost most of it again. Always use google docs, kids. They'll save your life. Besides that, I'm juggling a story for my fiction class and a job. But who needs free time, right?

I really wanted this chapter to start showing the full consequences of war without demonizing the Fire Nation. Most of them are just doing their job and want to go home.

 **Terms and Translations:**

Xīnyuè Jié: literally means "new-moon festival" as their New Year is based on the lunar calendar.

Tiáojiě Rén: mediator/bridge builder. They're an important faction in this AU and have a large role to play later in the story.

sowán: Slang for the flaming boulders of coal the Fire Nation use for artillery. A merging of Sozin and gāowán, the Chinese for testicle. They are literally calling the boulders Sozin's balls.


End file.
